


What Must Not Be Said

by Salr323



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Salr323
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

_You cannot look in his eyes_  
Because your pulse must not say  
What must not be said. 

“To Be In Love” - Gwendolyn Brooks

Josh wasn’t sure when it started, but if he’d had to name a place or a moment it would have been four weeks ago, standing in the freezing cold night air outside the gates of the White House.

He’d sent Donna out there in a vain attempt to sway the minds of the Flanders family the night Hartsfield’s Landing kicked off the New Hampshire primary, and, after a minor revelation courtesy of Leo and the people of Taiwan, he’d gone out himself to stop her. She’d borrowed his coat because hers was ridiculously thin, and as he’d gotten off the phone to the Flanders she’d been watching him with an earnest expression which seemed to say ‘you’re crazy but I understand you completely’. His coat had been too large on her narrow shoulders, the collar pushing her hair up and sending loose strands drifting in the breeze. In the floodlights that illuminated the White House it had looked more golden than usual, stark against his black coat and the black night and right then, right there, he’d really, really wanted to reach out and touch it. He’d wanted to touch her hair, to run it through his fingers and see if it was as soft and silken as it looked.

The impulse had been so strong that for a moment he’d been left wordless, not least because only the night before he’d told Amy Gardner that he loved her. So why he should suddenly be sideswiped by an almost overwhelming desire to touch Donna’s hair was a mystery. As they’d walked together back to the West Wing he’d managed to explain it away as a combination of euphoria due to his rediscovered faith in the democratic process, the lateness of the hour, and the fact that his relationship with Amy had unlocked a whole side of his life that had, frankly, been kept in the dark for too long. 

It was a passing fancy, he’d decided. An aberration, a throwback to a time before Amy when the only women in his life had been CJ, Donna and his mom, and it signified nothing more than being on a personal high. He was happy, he was in love and sometimes those feelings spilled over. That was all.

It was a good explanation, it was plausible. And he’d believed it until the next morning when, as he’d been sipping his first coffee of the day, Donna had breezed into the office with the daily schedule and then turned to leave with a sort of flick of her head that had sent her hair swaying.

And there it was again, that tug in the pit of his stomach, the sudden tightness in his chest. It didn’t make any sense! Amy was beautiful – she had gorgeous hair, soft, silky and touchable – he loved her, and they were having lots and lots of amazing sex. So, obviously, frustration couldn’t be at the root of this strange, inexplicable fascination with Donna’s hair. He didn’t even like blondes. Not that Donna was your typical blonde, but he’d always preferred sultry brunettes. In fact, he couldn’t remember one time when he’d ogled the obvious blonde instead of her more interesting, sexier friend. 

None of which explained what the hell was going on. Therefore, as he so often did when faced with a complex personal problem, Josh decided that denial was the best strategy. Over the years, for various reasons, he’d become adept at filing certain truths or experiences away in one part of his mind and getting on with life without letting them bother him. It was a useful skill, and it served him well.

And so his insistent desire to touch Donna’s hair was filed away, ignored and glossed over. Life moved on, his relationship with Amy continued and became more familiar, more relaxed and more complicated.

A lot more complicated. One might even say difficult. But they were still going, still trying despite the complications. And he was proud of that, proud of the fact that he hadn’t given up. He hadn’t run, despite – and he didn’t think he was overstating the case – severe provocation.

He considered it a sign of the strength and maturity of their relationship. She’d almost brought down their flagship welfare reform bill, and if she’d succeeded… Well, Leo would probably have been the only thing standing between Josh and a forced letter of resignation. She’d played hardball, but so had he, and he’d played better and harder and in the end she’d been the one resigning.

A weaker relationship wouldn’t have survived that, would it? 

So, despite a rocky couple of weeks, they were still together. At least, he still spent half his nights at her apartment, they still argued and he still told her that he loved her. She said that she didn’t believe in declarations of love, that it was a statement of possession and that love should be evident in actions not words. He thought that was BS, but didn’t argue. If they didn’t love each other, they wouldn’t still be together. That much was obvious to him, but he wasn’t going to beat her around the head with it. He was confident that one day she’d figure it out and say the words out loud.

That was how it had been for three weeks, three weeks since she’d resigned and almost immediately been snapped up by the National Organisation of Women. Her feet had, literally, not touched the ground. 

He was hoping it would start getting easier now, that things would settle. To that end he’d made a decision, something to smooth the return to where they’d been before the welfare reform fiasco. They were going away, not to Tahiti but to Florida. To meet his mom.

It was a big step. It showed commitment, it showed her that he wanted a future with her. Or so he hoped. Amy had been somewhat under-whelmed by the idea at first, but he’d reeled her in with promises of hot sunshine and his mother’s pool. They both needed to get out of DC, he’d reasoned, to leave it all behind and just be themselves for a couple of days. And he wanted his mom to meet her, he wanted to be the kind of guy who introduced his girlfriend to his parents. 

Eventually she’d agreed. Donna had booked the tickets, and in the morning they would be gone for three days in the Florida sun. It would do them good, he knew it. And all he had to get through before they were sitting together in business class (only the best!) was Senator Stackhouse’s Autism Society fundraiser. Attendance was mandatory, and he didn’t mind that. As causes went it was a worthy one, and deserved all the publicity and cash the presidential seal of approval could convey.

What bothered him, however, was that this was the first time he and Amy would be seen together in public since the whole welfare debacle. It would be awkward. Not so much for Amy – she’d been doing her job and they all respected that – but for him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the staff thought he was sleeping with the enemy. No one had said as much, at least not to his face, but they all knew how Amy had gotten the heads up on the marriage incentives compromise. For them to show up at this together, so soon afterward, was definitely awkward. But what choice did he have? Amy Gardner wasn’t the sort of woman you could hide in a closet; they were together, and everyone would just have to deal with the fact.

Feeling abruptly resolute Josh closed down his PC and rummaged in his drawer for a tie. Amy would be here soon and he didn’t want to keep her hanging around the bullpen while he got himself together. She hated to wait almost as much as he did. One of the many things they had in common.

Tie in hand, he wandered out in search of Donna. She was, as usual, hovering close to her desk compulsively tidying files away. It was a little ritual at the end of the day, and probably went a long way toward actually keeping the office functioning. Donna Moss’s ability to lay her hands on any file, at any time, was legendary. And that reminded him…

“Donna?”

She turned, glanced once over his tux, and said, “Yeah?”

“Did the plane tickets—”

“They’re in your bag.” She turned back to the filing cabinet. “So’s the car rental agreement. It’s Hertz, by the way.”

“Great.” 

With a soft thud the cabinet drawer slid shut and Donna turned around. Her gaze fell on the tie dangling from his hand, and with a slight roll of her eyes she came over and took it from him. “So you’re back on Tuesday?” She flipped his collar up and passed the tie around the back of his neck. Her fingers briefly touched his skin and he was surprised at how cold she felt.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “If you need to call on Monday…”

“I’ll try not to bother you,” she said, her gaze fixed on the tie she was knotting.

“No, do. I mean, you know, if it’s urgent.”

“Okay.” Her attention was still fixed on the tie, and standing this close he found it hard to keep his eyes from her hair. It was loose, hanging straight down like a golden curtain, swaying slightly as she moved and brushing across her bare shoulder in a way that was distracting and—

Bare shoulder? He was pretty certain that Donna didn’t usually have bare shoulders at work. As she finished with the tie his eyes investigated further and he realised, with surprise, that she was dressed for a party. “Are you coming to the fundraiser?” 

Donna smiled, dusting her hands across his shoulders like a proud parent – or something… “Yes. Yes, I am.”

His eyebrows climbed. “I didn’t know.”

“No.”

“I didn’t think— I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the assistant grade had been invited.”

“We haven’t,” she said with an arch look. “Josh, are you afraid I’m going to lower the tone?”

“Yeah, Donna, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of….” Then he smiled, “So you’re gate crashing? I won’t tell.”

She smiled back, and he thought he could detect a hint of triumph in her eyes. “Actually,” she said, “Sam’s taking me.”

“Sam?” There was a strange pressure, right in the centre of his chest. “Sam’s taking you?”

Donna turned away, her hair swinging across her face. How did it move like that, as if it were made of silk, or—

“Yes, Sam.”

“Like a date?” It came out on the crest of a nervous laugh.

She froze where she stood, her face half turned from him and half hidden behind the curtain of her hair. “Why do you think that’s funny?”

“I don’t.” That was the truth, and perhaps he should have stopped right there. But, typically, he didn’t. “I think it’s a really bad idea.”

Turning, she lifted her chin and stared at him. “Who for, Josh? Because, I gotta tell you, Sam’s a very attractive man…”

Oh no, nononononono… “Donna, you can’t. I’m sorry, you can’t. You’re an assistant, and he’s Deputy Chief— I mean, Deputy Communications—”

Her eyes went wide. “He is? Sam is? How have I worked here for three years and not realised that? Thanks, Josh, I—”

“Donna! Seriously, think about it. After the call girl thing…”

“Oh my God.” She was staring at him now as if he had lost it entirely. “The call girl thing? Josh, I swear, if you’re comparing me to—”

“What’s the call girl thing, J?” Amy’s timing was, as always, impeccable. Turning slowly Josh saw her watching them with the hint of a smile playing in her dark eyes; it looked like trouble. “Anything I should know about?” 

“No. I was talking about Sam and— Forget it, it’s ancient history.”

She accepted it with a shrug that meant he’d be hearing about it later, and sauntered toward them. “Hey Donna,” she said. “That dress looks great on you. I remember it from the First Lady’s birthday thing.”

Donna smiled, but it was a tight smile. “Thanks, Amy.” She cast a cool glance at Josh. “We lowly assistants can’t afford a new dress for every party. Perhaps if I was a lady of the night…?”

“Donna…”

She smiled brightly. “Time I went to ruin the reputation – and quite possibly the career – of my date. I’ll see you guys later.”

With that she turned on her heel, her hair swinging behind her like something out of a shampoo add. Soft and silken and shining like sunshine… God, he really, really wanted to touch it.

“She’s an odd one,” Amy said, her voice cutting across his thoughts as he watched Donna weave her way through the desks. “I should offer her a job, I like her style.”

“She’s already got a job.”

“Yeah, but I heard her boss is a bastard.”

“I heard that too.” Silken, soft, glittering like spun gold… Shaking himself, Josh took Amy by the arm and determinedly started moving them toward the ballroom. “I need a drink.” 

“Yeah, I can see you’re really in the party mood.”

He glanced at her sideways, at the compressed lips and world-weary expression, and wondered if she’d always looked like that or if he’d done it to her over the past three weeks. “I’m sorry, I just… I had a weird conversation with Donna. It’s nothing.” He slipped his hand from her arm to around her waist and pulled her closer. “It’s nothing. And tomorrow we’ll be on a plane, heading for the sun.”

“At your mom’s.”

“She’ll love you.” He squeezed her tight. “Just like I do.”

Even as the words left his lips he could feel her stiffen, as if each muscle had suddenly contracted. “Josh…”

“I don’t mean it in a possessive—”

“How about we don’t talk about it again, okay?” She pulled away from him until his arm dropped from her waist. “Let’s just party for once.”

“Okay.” Suited him. Suited him just fine. A couple of vodkas on ice and perhaps that strange pressure in the centre of his chest would ease up… Except every time he thought about it, about Donna and Sam, his stomach tightened in a way that made him nauseous. Or maybe it was something he ate? Perhaps the vodka would sort that out too…

 

Donna loved these events. The glamour, the celebrities, the free champagne. At first, when the administration had just arrived in DC, she’d felt like Cinderella at the ball, as if at any moment the clock would strike midnight and her dress would turn to rags in front of everybody. But over the years that impostor feeling had faded, her confidence had grown and now she could hold her own with pretty much anyone in the room. Even the First Lady, as she’d so dramatically proven only a couple of weeks earlier. 

But for a change it wasn’t the lure of free food and drink that had brought her here. And, contrary to Josh’s bizarre imagination, it wasn’t Sam’s pretty face either. Truth was, it was Senator Stackhouse. Ever since she’d watched him talking until he almost dropped for the sake of his little grandson she’d had something of a crush on the man. Not a crush, crush, but a real, heartfelt respect. There weren’t enough men in Washington like Senator Stackhouse, and she wanted to shake him by the hand and tell him so. Which was why, when she’d heard about the fundraiser, she’d asked Sam if he could swing her a ticket (if she’d had $2000 she’d have paid for one herself) and he’d immediately suggested that she come along as his date. Not a real date, of course, but he’d remembered how she’d been the one to figure out the parliamentary loophole that had allowed Stackhouse to eventually talk the bill out, and Sam wanted to introduce her to him.

She had to admit that she liked the idea. And if a little part of her sighed, and thought that a few months back Josh might have been the one to remember, she tried to pay it no attention. Jealousy and wishful thinking never did anyone any good. Life was as it was, end of story. And so she found herself lifting a couple of glasses of the best champagne from a passing tray and weaving through the crowd toward Sam, who was chatting with CJ and Toby. 

He smiled when she gave him the glass. “The Senator’s just talking to the President,” he said, taking a sip, “when they’re done, we’ll go over.”

Donna beamed. “You’re a sweet man, Sam Seaborn.” She took a sip from her own glass, the dry, sharp taste as exquisite as the bubbles popping on her tongue. This was the life! As Sam returned to his conversation with CJ, Donna let her eyes roam around the room picking out the odd famous face. Who’d have thought that she, Donna Moss of Madison Wisconsin, would end up here? Not her, that was for sure. And not her parents either, since they— Her eye was suddenly caught by a familiar, intense gaze. Josh. He was at the bar, glass in hand and watching her intently. Amy was at his side, half turned into him and murmuring in his ear. Charming.

She chose not to notice and turned back to Sam. “You should know,” she said, taking another sip of champagne, “that Josh doesn’t think I should be here with you.”

“He doesn’t?” 

Rolling her eyes slightly, she said, “He thinks we’re on a date.”

CJ chortled. “Did you tell him that?”

“No. But he was being an idiot, so I let him believe it.”

Sam glanced over toward Josh and with an innocent smile lifted his champagne glass in a salute. “Yeah,” he said, still smiling, “he looks really pissed now.”

CJ looked over and her eyes widened slightly. “Is that— Is he with Amy Gardner?”

“Oh yes,” Donna agreed, not turning around. CJ cut her a look and she wished she’d sounded less…vehement.

“I thought they split up,” CJ said.

“Apparently not. They’re going to visit his mom for the weekend tomorrow.”

“Wow.” Sam seemed genuinely surprised, “That’s… That’s not like Josh.”

“No,” Donna agreed, taking a longer drink. This really, really wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss. 

CJ grunted. “I just hope he doesn’t talk in his sleep.” And then glancing at Donna she said, “Sorry.”

There was an awkward pause and Donna wondered if everyone in the world knew how she felt about Josh. Everyone except Josh, of course, and she had to be grateful for small mercies. 

“What I don’t get,” Sam said suddenly, “is why he doesn’t think you should be here with me.”

Donna just shook her head. “You don’t want to know. Trust me, you really don’t want to know.”

 

The vodka wasn’t helping. In fact Josh suspected it was making things worse. It seemed to be defining things in sharper lines, making colours deeper and the pain in his chest more acute. He sat now nursing his third vodka, with Amy slumped in the chair next to him and her head resting on his shoulder. She’d had a few of her own, which made her more brazen than usual in both her opinions and her determination to voice them. It was hardly surprising they were alone at the table.

On the far side of the room he could see CJ and Toby in close conversation, although not a serious one from the way she was smiling. Toby never smiled, at least not on the outside, but he was certainly enjoying his cigar. Leo was doing the rounds with the President, and somehow, of all the tables in the room, they hadn’t stopped at Josh’s. Perhaps they didn’t think he’d be likely to donate, or perhaps the First Lady wanted to avoid talking to Amy. After all, there was only so far sisterly love could stretch. The vodka suggested something else though, that perhaps the President was avoiding him. After tearing him a new one in the oval office – in front of half the staff – why would he want to come over and make small talk?

But that had been three weeks ago. Things moved on, and the President didn’t hold a grudge. Still, the voice of the vodka was very persuasive…

To distract himself from that dark thought, Josh turned his eyes toward the only thing in the room guaranteed to make him feel worse. Donna. Specifically, Donna and Sam. He’d been watching them for the past half hour, as they chatted animatedly to Senator Stackhouse. Well, Donna had been doing most of the chatting. Sam had been nodding along, wearing his patient, listening face. Whether he was really listening, Josh didn’t know. Perhaps his mind was elsewhere? Maybe he was thinking about taking Donna home and—

He sat upright so suddenly that Amy’s head slipped from his shoulder and she cursed in surprise. “What the hell…?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to shake the shockingly graphic image from his mind. It lingered like stale tobacco.

“God, Josh,” she complained, settling herself against him again, “what the hell’s the matter? It’s a party, and you’re jumping like the house is on fire.”

He flinched at her accidental choice of words. She didn’t know, it wasn’t her fault, but still… “I had a— twitch.”

She moved her head, angled it up so that she could see his face. “Whatever.” Then she yawned. “Why don’t we dance? I’m bored.”

Josh’s eyes had returned, as if magnetized, to Donna and Sam. Why on Earth she was spending half an hour in earnest conversation with Stackhouse was beyond him, but the old coot was certainly enjoying the attention. Who wouldn’t? 

“She’s like your secret weapon, J,” Amy said, her head heavy on his shoulder. “Send her out to slay the old white guys in suits.”

“Huh?” 

“Donna,” Amy clarified. “Why’ve you got her chatting up Stackhouse?”

“I haven’t,” he said. “I didn’t even know she’d be here tonight.”

“Interesting.” Amy sat up and yawned, her eyes now fixed on Donna. 

Josh glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“If she’s not here for you, Josh…” She left it hanging, and when he didn’t pick it up she said, “She’s networking, J. Doing her own thing. About time too.”

“Donna?” He couldn’t help it, he laughed at the idea. “Donna’s idea of networking is looking for a date among the TV reporters.”

Amy stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “God, Josh, you’re such a jackass.”

“Why would she be networking with Stackhouse?” he countered. “You think she wants to trade a White House for a job as some Senator’s assistant—”

“And you think Donna wants to be an assistant the rest of her life? Wake up. She’s smart, I’ve seen her in action. She’s better than that, and you know it.” Her gaze travelled back to Donna, who had the Senator laughing now. “Stackhouse has staff. He’s got patronage.” She paused and slid Josh a sly glance. “Perhaps I really should hire her.”

He shrugged it off. “Donna wouldn’t leave.”

“She wouldn’t leave?” It was Amy’s turn to laugh. “You don’t think she’d leave if she got offered a better job?”

His eyes drifted down to the ice melting in the bottom of his glass. “She wouldn’t. She’s loyal.”

“Loyal?” Amy’s chuckle turned into a brash laugh. “J, she’s your assistant, not your dog.”

“That’s not what I—”

“You really think she’d turn down a job with NOW if I asked her?” 

There was just enough challenge in her voice to sound the alarms and Josh sat up straight. “Amy, don’t.”

She was smirking. “I think that’s a theory we need to test.”

“Seriously, don’t.” 

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

“It’s not about losing,” he insisted, drawing closer and lowering his voice. “Amy, you’re talking about messing with Donna’s life just to prove a point.”

“I’d offer her a good job, what’s the harm in that?”

He didn’t answer, just stared back into his empty glass. He wouldn’t put it past Amy, he wouldn’t put anything past her, but he was beginning to realise that it was the fight she relished. If you just stopped arguing she soon got bored. 

Sure enough, after a minute or two had passed in silence, she yawned, stretched and said, “I need another drink. Coming?”

He rose and felt the vodka hit him like a cockeyed wave. His head was spinning and he had to steady himself with one hand on the table; he should have eaten first. “Sure,” he said, but then his eye was caught again by Donna, her hair glinting as she laughed with Stackhouse, and he realised that she was alone. Sam had disappeared. After a moment Josh spotted him heading for the buffet. “Actually,” he said to Amy, “I think I’ll get something to eat.”

He didn’t give her time to tag along, and began to manoeuvre through the noisy crowd toward Sam. His spinning head made the manoeuvring that little bit more difficult, but soon enough he found himself standing at Sam’s side and staring at a plate of shrimps on sticks. “That doesn’t look good,” he said, eying the impaled shrimp. “You think they do that before or after they’re dead?”

Sam glanced over. “They’re peeled, Josh. I think it’s a safe bet they were dead first.”

“Hmm…” Ignoring the macabre shellfish, Josh grabbed a plate and started loading it with mini-quiche and wondered, not for the first time, why they couldn’t serve real food at these things. “So,” he said out loud, “you’re here with Donna…”

“I am,” Sam agreed, still perusing the buffet. “And you’re here with Amy Gardner.”

“Yeah, look…” He lowered his voice. “You can’t date Donna.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Ah… I think I can.”

“No, you really can’t.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

Josh laughed, but he suspected it was the vodka talking. “Do I need to?”

Sam made a show of thinking it through; the guy deserved an Emmy. “You know, yes you do.”

“She’s an assistant.” 

Sam just stared, waiting for him to carry on. When he didn’t Sam looked genuinely surprised. “That’s it?”

“It’s not appropriate, it could lead to a conflict of interest and—”

“She’s not my assistant,” Sam pointed out. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just— You know, after the thing with Lauri you need to think about what’s appropriate.”

The amusement on Sam’s face evaporated. “Okay,” he said, turning sharply back to the buffet. “First, Lauri is a friend. I’m not dating her, I’ve never dated her. Second, you’re the last person to be lecturing me about what is and isn’t an appropriate relationship.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not the one whose pillow talk almost cost us the welfare bill!”

Josh felt the air catch in his lungs. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Is that… is that what people are saying?”

Sam was scowling at the food and didn’t answer.

“Sam?” Josh grabbed his arm. “Is that what people are saying?”

“No one’s saying anything.”

“But they’re thinking it?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— I didn’t think you’d use Lauri against me.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” He stopped and ran a hand across his face. Donna and Sam… How had this happened? How had he not seen this happening? “I’m sorry, I’m not thinking straight. I was out of line.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. Then he blew out a sigh. “Look, for the record, Donna asked me if I could get her a ticket for tonight and so I brought her along. It’s not a date date.”

It took a moment for the truth to penetrate, and when Josh’s hand fell from his face he found himself staring at Sam. “She told me it was.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, I heard that.”

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “She asked for a ticket for this?”

“She wanted to meet Senator Stackhouse.”

Networking? So Amy was right! “She’s after a new job?”

“With Stackhouse?” Sam looked doubtful. “I don’t think so. She wanted to congratulate him on the filibuster – they’ve been talking for half an hour already. And I thought, you know, since it was Donna who found out about his grandson, and dug up the rule about yielding for a question...”

“Yeah,” Josh breathed, his gaze returning to Donna. She was kissing the Senator on the cheek; it looked like she was saying goodbye. “I’d forgotten about that.” 

“I thought it would be nice if I introduced them. I mean, it’s not often people in Donna’s grade get much recognition for the work they do, and if she hadn’t remembered that loophole…”

Sam’s voice mingled with the noise of the crowd as Josh watched Donna turn away from the Senator and glance around, looking for a friendly face. She was glowing, radiant with happiness. Her smile was wide, almost jubilant. “I should have done that for her,” Josh said quietly. “I should have remembered.”

Sam didn’t answer, and when Josh looked at him he just shrugged. “You’ve been busy.”

Out the corner of his eye he saw Donna moving toward them. It was like a sixth sense; he always knew where she was in the room. But the vodka was making his head swirl and he couldn’t think straight. He wasn’t sure he could handle her like this, so happy when he wasn’t the cause. Why didn’t I remember the filibuster? Starting to back away he stopped when Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell Donna that she couldn’t see me because of the potential scandal?”

He grimaced. “I don’t think I phrased it—”

“Did you compare her to a prostitute?”

“No! Of course not, I just— Did she say that?”

“You need to apologize.”

“Now?” He could hardly think straight, let alone talk straight. “Maybe I should—”

“Sam!” Donna was with them, clinging to Sam’s arm in utter glee. “Thank you! That was just— What a nice guy. Seriously, what an amazing man. Did you know he was once arrested for protesting outside a nuclear—” She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at the buffet. “What in God’s name have they done to those poor shrimp?”

Josh couldn’t help smiling. “Gruesome, isn’t it?” he agreed. “It’s like they’ve been…”

“…impaled,” Donna nodded. Then she flashed him a quick smile, “Hey, Josh.”

“Hey.” 

She had a great smile. He’d always thought she had a great smile. Amy had a beautiful smile too, but she kept it back for rare and special occasions. Donna’s smile was different, her smile seemed to leap right out of her like a force of nature. It was unstoppable and entirely without artifice. He loved that.

Perhaps he’d been staring for too long, because she suddenly cocked her head and fixed him with a long-suffering look. “Please tell me you weren’t lecturing Sam on the dangers of being seen in public with someone of the lower orders?”

“I—” 

He glanced at Sam for help, but his friend just shrugged and said, “Donna, I’m just going to have a word with Congressman Tandy about 762.”

Yeah, right. Whatever 762 was, if it even existed…

“Okay,” Donna nodded, keeping her eyes on Josh. And then, over her shoulder she called, “Miss you already love-muffin!”

Sam blew her a kiss and Josh nodded politely to a couple of passing Senators who looked like they might have already died in office. “That was funny.”

“I thought so.” Donna picked up a platter from the buffet and offered it to him. “Stabbed shrimp?”

“Why did you tell me this was a date?”

She shrugged and returned the plate to the table. “Because you were annoying me.”

“More than usual?”

Half-smiling, she just shook her head. “Are we going to argue about this? Because I just had a fantastic conversation with Senator Stackhouse, and I’m on a huge high.”

“I can see that.” Her smile was contagious and he found himself returning it. “I’m glad you got to meet him.”

Donna took a deep breath and sighed happily. “Me too. I wish there were more men like him here, Josh. In government. He’s not… I don’t know, he stands up for what he believes in, he’s not an operator.”

“Unlike me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He shrugged, feeling some of the darkness of earlier in the evening returning. “I am an operator, Donna. One of the best.” 

She eyed him for a moment. “You think I’d still be working for you if that’s all you were?” 

“I don’t know, would you?”

The smile was back, the affectionate, exasperated smile. “Are you drunk, Josh? Cause I gotta tell you, you’re a downer when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m… I may be mildly sloshed.”

She grinned. “Really? Does that make you Sloshed Lyman?”

“That’s not funny.” Except he couldn’t help chuckling. “That’s not funny, and I’m only laughing because I’m—“

“Sloshed Lyman?”

“Seriously, no one’s laughing…”

“You’re laughing!” And so was she as she reached down, picked up a skewered shrimp and waved it in front of his nose. “You should eat something, Slosh.”

“I’m not eating that. I have quiche.”

“Quiche?” She eyed his plate dubiously. “Real men don’t eat quiche.”

He was about to snap back a witty retort when a breathy voice in his ear whispered, “Real men don’t abandon their dates at the bar, either.”

Ah. Amy.

He turned and tried a smile. “I was getting quiche.”

Her eyes drifted down to the plate, over Donna and the shrimp-on-a-stick, and back to him. “Is that what you were doing?”

“Are you hungry?”

A sly smile lit her eyes, and she pressed herself close enough that her nose nuzzled his ear. “Only for you. Let’s get outa here.”

Normally that wasn’t an offer he could refuse, but tonight he found himself watching Donna toying awkwardly with the cocktail stick, trying to look anywhere but at him – at them – and for some reason it troubled him. Gently, he eased Amy away– something he’d never done before – and said, “I just need to… I need to speak to Leo before I go.”

“About what?”

Suddenly he was acutely aware of Donna, of Sam, of them all. I’m not the one whose pillow talk almost cost us the welfare bill. “It’s… It’s just stuff,” he hedged. “Look, I’ll see you back at your place, okay?”

She fixed him with a hard, deliberate stare. “Stuff?”

“Yeah, I—”

Grabbing his arm, she yanked him toward the dance floor. “Dance with me, J.”

“Amy…” 

Her slender fingers were like iron around his wrist. “Come on, dance with me.”

His feet were moving, he couldn’t say no. He could rarely say no to Amy. Tossing an apologetic glance over his shoulder he saw Donna smile, her gaze still subtly averted. And then she was gone, lost behind a thin crowd of dancers swaying to the slow music. 

Amy didn’t stop until they were at the very centre of the dance floor – she had an exhibitionist streak that she loved to indulge – and spun slowly into his arms. “That’s better,” she purred. “Now I have your full attention.”

He smiled down at her. “Always.” 

“Except when you have to talk to Leo about ‘stuff’.”

Josh shrugged and tugged her closer, her hair soft against his cheek. “It’s nothing important.”

“So why can’t you tell me?”

Over her shoulder he watched the other dancers – husbands, wives, lovers, friends. They moved in a random pattern, coming together, moving apart. And suddenly, through a parting of the dancers, he saw Donna’s red dress. She was still at the buffet, her golden hair gleaming in the low light, and her eyes… For an instant they met his before she abruptly looked away.

“J?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Amy’s voice was just that little bit more strident than before. 

“Tell you what?” The crowd closed in again and he lost Donna for a moment. But then he glimpsed a flash of burgundy and gold and saw her moving, walking toward Sam who stood talking to Toby. Josh watched her over Amy’s shoulder, her walk the most familiar thing in the room. The subtle sway of her hips, the way her hair fluttered around her face as if caressed by a soft breeze. What would it feel like, he wondered, to run his fingers through her hair? Not heavy and luxurious like Amy’s hair, but as light and breezy as gossamer…

“What you’re talking to Leo about,” Amy pressed. “Why won’t you tell me?”

He blinked, dragging his eyes away from Donna and focusing on Amy. Perhaps he should have eaten something, his mind was feeling decidedly detached. “Because,” he said, “it’s work. That’s all.”

Her eyes were dark and hard. “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

Josh shook his head. “Can we… Let’s not do this here, Amy.”

She snorted a derisive laugh. “Are you afraid I’ll show you up in front of your friends?”

“Ha,” he grunted, “by doing something worse than trying to sink a piece of flagship Democrat legislation?”

Amy stilled. “So that is what this is about.”

“Amy…”

She laughed bleakly, pulling out of his arms. “Are you under orders, J? Or is this your own idea?” Her voice was rising, attracting curious glances from the couples dancing nearby. “You can fuck me, but you can’t talk to me?”

He grabbed her arm. “Amy…”

“What? Am I embarrassing you, Josh?”

“We need to leave, we need to—”

She yanked her arm out of his. “Get your hands off me!”

Oh God. Everyone was looking. “Amy…

“I’m going home,” she said loudly, spinning on her heel and stalking away. “And you can sleep on the damn couch!”

With that she pushed through the crowd and left him standing there alone in the middle of the dance floor. Everyone was looking. It felt like everyone in the whole damn ballroom was looking, which was obviously Amy’s intention. She had a flare for the dramatic – and knew how to undermine her opponents.

Clearing his throat, he tried to think clearly enough to work out what to do next. Retreating from the dance floor like a whipped puppy wasn’t going to do his credibility any good, but neither was standing there like the world’s biggest loser. But he had to do something, he couldn’t just—

“Josh?” He felt a light hand touch his arm, and turned.

“Donna…” 

She was standing there watching him with guarded concern, her gaze flicking between him and something over his shoulder. Amy, perhaps. He didn’t look. Donna gave half a smile, “You think your career would be over if you danced with me?” 

He could have kissed her for not teasing him, not making an issue out of his moment of complete public humiliation. “I think it’ll survive.”

But he didn’t move, he just looked at her. She’d come to rescue him, to salvage what she could of his ego. It was…it was incredibly sweet. 

After a moment Donna said, “So, I was thinking right now might be a good time for the dancing.”

“Yeah, okay. I was just…” He let the words trail off, took her hand in his and slipped his arm around her waist. In heels she was practically his height, and it felt strange to hold her after Amy. No, strange was the wrong word. Different, it felt different. It felt good. They were eye to eye, close enough that he could smell her perfume and see the flecks of different colours in her eyes – blue, a little grey, the slightest hint of green. He liked her eyes, they were as open as her smile, and right now they were warm and affectionate and just for him. “Thank you,” he said at last. 

She didn’t answer, but her gaze drifted away from his face, over his shoulder and her eyes hardened. Then she sighed, and looked back at him. “You’re going to owe me,” she warned him with forced brightness. “This is worth… I don’t know. Lunch, at least.”

“I’ll take you to McDonalds.”

“Be still my heart…”

He smiled, because he knew she knew he didn’t mean it. And she smiled back, because she knew it too. Their eyes locked and she didn’t look away, even when the smile turned into something else, something warmer and deeper, or when they drifted closer like two bodies in a declining orbit, or when his breathing grew short and shallow and stirred the edges of her hair and his nose brushed against hers and his lips—

Donna jerked back. “Ah,” she whispered huskily, “I was… Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“A cab?” He felt dizzy, breathless, intoxicated. “Why?”

Her smile was confused, almost a laugh. “You’re, uh, I think we’re both… A little too much champagne.”

“Okay.” That explained it. Whatever just happened, that explained it. “Yeah, I should… I should walk home. Fresh air.”

“You’re going to Amy’s, remember?” Donna’s gaze was fixed firmly on his shoulder. “So I should get you a cab.”

“I can do it myself, you don’t need to—”

She laughed edgily. “Name me one cab company in DC.”

“I…” Damn. 

“You should get your stuff, you have an early flight.”

“Yeah…”

Her hand fell away from his shoulder, but he clung on to the one he’d been holding as they began to make their way through the crowd and back toward the office. Only their fingers were touching, but he found himself curiously reluctant to break that slight connection. “I put your cell and the recharger in your backpack, and the file on the education bill…” She pushed open the doors and they walked out into the quiet corridors beyond; the air was cooler here, the lights brighter. He felt the fog in his head start to clear. Donna was half a step ahead of him, her fingers still lightly held in his, and her eyes firmly fixed ahead. “But you’ll probably have time to read it on Tuesday when you get back,” she was saying, “and I—”

“Donna?” He stopped, pulling her to a halt in the empty corridor.

She turned, still avoiding his gaze. “Yeah?”

He wanted to thank her, but he wasn’t sure for what. He wasn’t sure why he was here, holding her hand and feeling something for her that he couldn’t quite identify. It was elusive, out of reach, and the harder he thought about it the more slippery it became until it slid right through his fingers.

“Josh?” she prompted, shifting uneasily.

“I just… Have a good weekend,” he said lamely. “I mean, don’t come into the office. Have some fun.”

She smiled. “You too. I hope…” She looked down, took a deep breath and then looked right at him. “I hope your mom and Amy hit it off.”

“Yeah…”

Donna tugged her fingers free of his hand. “I’m gonna call the cab, then I think I’ll go back and, you know, have some more champagne.”

“You’re not going home?” For some reason that disappointed him. 

She shrugged. “When the cat’s away, Josh. I don’t have to work tomorrow for the first time in forever, so…” She started walking. “Go wait outside, I’ll get them to meet you there.”

“Thanks… And Donna?” She paused expectantly. “Amy was right, you look great in that dress. Really…great.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’ll see you Tuesday. Bring me back something.” And then she’d disappeared through another set of double doors, leaving him alone and facing the prospect of a night on the couch at Amy’s apartment.

It was the price of commitment, he supposed. The price of making this relationship work, and it was a price he was willing to pay. No one had ever accused Josh Lyman of being the first to back out when the going got tough. 

He just wished he could stop thinking about Donna’s hair…


	2. What Must Not Be Said

The sun streamed through the window, barely stopped by the thin curtains, and fell right across the bed. It was warm and luxurious and Donna was relishing the sensation of just dosing, drifting between sleep and consciousness heedless of the time. Idly she planned her day, a little light shopping, perhaps a trip to the gym, pick up some real food from the grocery store, a DVD, a bottle of wine and—

Her phone began to ring and she rolled over to snatch it off the night stand, not sure if she was pleased or pissed that Josh was disturbing her Saturday morning. “This better be good,” she said, slumping back against the pillows and smiling despite herself.

There was a slight pause, and then a voice said, “Actually it is.”

“Leo!” She was sitting bolt upright in bed. “Sorry, I thought it was Josh.” And then she winced. “Not that I’d take that tone with my boss or—”

“Donna?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to ruin your weekend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

“I need you to take some papers down to Josh. He has a meeting with Senator Hammond tomorrow afternoon. I can’t tell you what it’s about, but the papers I’m going to give you are for his eyes only and need to be kept on your person the whole time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course.”

“He’ll probably need you at the meeting, so plan on staying down there a night. Also, you’ll need to stop by his apartment and pick up a suit.” She could almost hear him rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Apparently he has nothing but shorts with him.”

Donna smiled. “No problem. I should get a flight this afternoon?”

“Yeah, swing by my office on your way to the airport. I’ve got the papers here.”

“Okay. I’ll get right on it.”

“And Donna? Make sure you treat yourself to a nice hotel.”

She smiled. “I’m already packing the sun block.”

When he’d hung up Donna sat for a moment, legs crossed and gazing at nothing in particular. All in all a trip to Florida on the government’s dime wasn’t a bad deal, even if the meeting with Hammond took all Sunday afternoon. She’d get some sun, and aside from when they were actually working she didn’t have to see Josh. Not that she minded seeing Josh, but seeing him with Amy… She didn’t like it. She’d tried, she’d really tried to make light of it, to tease him about it, even to get to the point where she liked Amy. But she didn’t, and after her little tantrum on the dance floor last night… It was best if Donna just stayed out of their way.

Slipping out of bed she headed for the shower. She’d pack her own stuff, nip into the office to book the tickets and find a hotel, then head over to Josh’s apartment and pull his things together. Glancing at her clock she realised it was only just after nine, so there was no real rush. 

She smiled as the hot water hit her. By dinner time she’d be lounging by a Florida pool watching the sunset… It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

 

By eleven she had her own overnight bag packed, complete with suit for the next day, and was on her way over to Josh’s apartment. It was a while since she’d been there, months in fact. Sometimes she thought Josh deliberately kept her away, her presence a reminder of the months he’d spent convalescing. It wasn’t something they talked about, it wasn’t something he liked to remember. Perhaps he discussed it with his therapist, but not her. In fact, if she thought about it – which she tried not to – he hadn’t discussed much of anything with her over the past few months. She knew she’d ceased to be the first person he regaled with his latest victory or frustration, and conversely he’d ceased to be the first person she went to with her problems and queries. Which was why she’d asked Sam for the ticket to the fundraiser, and not Josh. They’d drifted apart, which was natural and right and infinitely painful… 

Refusing to feel sorry for herself – literally refusing to give the notion the time of day – Donna pulled over by the side of the street and climbed out of the car. She still had keys to Josh’s apartment, for precisely this reason, and as she ran up the steps to his building she couldn’t repress a flash of nostalgia. She’d sat there with them all – Josh, CJ, Toby, Sam – and even then, in the wake of the shooting, things had been different. They’d still been basking in the afterglow of success, in the feeling of fellowship generated by the astounding fact that they’d done it. They’d won and now they were running the country. 

She smiled sadly as she unlocked the door and stepped into the lobby; those times were over. The President’s MS scandal had left them plotting in the basement and ever since then Donna had sensed a change in them all, a loss of idealism. Or perhaps it was just growing up, a realisation that they weren’t so different from, or better than, all the other movers and shakers in DC. She’d sensed that in Josh, that for him the gloss was fading and the reality was uglier than he’d been expecting. Perhaps it was because she knew him better than the others, or perhaps it was because it wasn’t just life in the White House that had left him jaded.

She’d seen Josh the day he’d secured the welfare reform vote – the day he’d lost Amy her job. He’d hated doing it, but more than that he’d hated that he couldn’t not do it. He hated that they’d had to win the vote at any cost because the MS had damaged them so deeply, he hated that the President had lost faith in his judgement after the tobacco debacle, he hated that Amy wouldn’t compromise, and most of all he hated that he was the kind of guy who’d sell out his girlfriend to bring in the votes.

He hated that, but he did it anyway and he hated that too.

With a sigh she walked up the steps and along the short corridor to his apartment. It felt strange stepping inside again, after all this time. How long had it been? Not since those few fragile weeks after that Christmas when she hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, and he hadn’t wanted to be left. 

Back then, in the depths of winter, she’d only ever seen his apartment at night. But today the morning sunlight splashed across his living room floor and she smiled as she closed the door behind her, older memories flooding back. Bitter-sweet perhaps, but still precious. She remembered the first day he’d made it out of bed and onto the sofa, and how she’d wanted to cheer because it felt as though he was back. And she remembered eating lunch there with him every day, and noting how he ate more and more and grew stronger and stronger; the slow lifting of a dark cloud. She’d been so proud, so full of hope. She’d felt important to him then, not just as the person who organised his life, but as a companion and a friend. It had been a long time since she’d felt like that, a long time since they’d eaten lunch together here or anywhere else. 

She knew why, but she didn’t want to think it. She didn’t want to blame Amy, she didn’t want to be that kind of woman because she knew it would poison what was left of her friendship with Josh and even now that was more important than indulging her sense of ill usage or regret. She had nothing to reproach him with at least, no broken promises, and over the past couple of weeks… 

Their eyes locked and she didn’t look away, even when the smile turned into something else, something warmer and deeper, or when they drifted closer like two bodies in a declining orbit, or when his breathing grew short and shallow and stirred the edges of her hair and his nose brushed against hers and his lips—

The memory flashed into her head and froze her halfway to his bedroom. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened last night, but she had the horrible feeling that she’d tried to kiss him. She remembered the knot in the bottom of her stomach that had burned hard and bright as they’d been dancing, her hyper-sensitive skin alive to the slightest breath that had whispered across her shoulder as they’d slowly drifted closer and— Thank God she’d stopped before she made a complete fool of herself! No more champagne, ever. 

Donna glanced around the pristine apartment and decided that the sooner she did what she needed to and left, the better. Without giving herself time to think about the warmth of his hand against her back or the drunken heat in his eyes, Donna headed into the bedroom. The drapes were shut and she drew them back immediately to reveal the only part of the apartment that actually looked lived in. The bed was unmade, a twisted mess of sheets, a few clothes dotted the floor and a couple of old coffee mugs sat on the night stands either side of the bed.

Either side of the bed… Turning away, Donna forced herself not to think about the discarded clothes or tangled sheets and fixed her eyes resolutely on Josh’s closet. She pulled out a dark suit and white shirt, and the tie his mother had gotten him for his birthday last year. Josh had almost certainly forgotten, but she was sure that his mom would notice. Which reminded her… She hung his suit from the closet door and studied his shoes until she found the ones she was looking for; even now, with the unmade bed haunting her, she thought it was unbearably sweet that his mom still bought him shoes. She pulled them out and then went in search of black socks. 

But when she pulled open his sock drawer she recoiled, her heart twisting painfully and ending up resting in her stomach and making her nauseous. Instead of the random snarl of socks, the drawer was entirely empty aside from two items: a packet of condoms and something black, lacy and barely there. With a shudder, Donna slammed shut the drawer. There were some things she really, really didn’t want to know about. 

For a moment she just stood there, studying the chest of drawers and trying not to think about the dishevelled sheets behind her. Josh had cleared out a drawer for Amy; it was a typically sweet gesture that meant all the more if you knew him. He rarely welcomed strangers into his life, so Amy was one of the privileged few. But how telling, Donna mused as she found some socks in the next drawer down, that Josh had made a space for Amy in his life and that she had left it all-but empty. 

She wondered if Josh noticed that too.

 

Rattled by the sock-drawer incident, Donna had slung his suit into his suit bag and left his apartment in a hurry. So she was early back to the office, but she liked being early so it didn’t bother her. Sauntering up to Leo’s office she saw that Margaret was there – of all the ‘loyal assistants’ she figured Margaret was the gold-standard. Wherever Leo was, there was Margaret. With a sigh she wondered if that would be her in ten or twenty years – Josh Lyman’s Margaret. As much as she loved the woman, it was a depressing thought.

Margaret, Donna suspected, had never felt about Leo McGarry the way she felt about Josh Lyman. And she doubted she could spend the next couple of decades watching Josh and Amy Gardner, or whoever took her place, building their life together while she continued to manage his diary. No, when she thought of it like that she was sure she couldn’t. She’d rather go back to Madison and work in Wal-Mart.

“Hi Donna,” Margaret said, breaking into her thoughts. “Off to Florida, I hear.”

“Yes,” she smiled, pushing aside the gloomy thoughts. “Sun, sea and… Well. Sun and sea.”

Margaret nodded. “Watch out for the sharks.”

“The sharks?” 

“In the ocean,” Margaret clarified. “It’s the time of year for them.”

Okay… “Right. Well, I will.” She nodded toward Leo’s door. “Is he…?”

“Yes, he’s waiting for you.” She smiled, and in a lower voice said, “And watch out for Amy Gardner too. I heard her bite’s worse than—”

“Not listening!” Donna headed fast for Leo’s door. God help her, but she would not gossip about Amy Gardner. Not ever.

Leo was behind his desk, nose in a file, when Donna slipped in through the door. He looked up with a smile and pulled his glasses off his nose; if he hadn’t been Chief of Staff, you’d think he was your favourite uncle. “Donna. Everything organised?”

“I’m flying out at three,” she told him. 

“Nice hotel?”

“Motel 6.”

“Motel 6? You couldn’t find anything better than Motel 6?”

She smiled and shrugged it away. “Are you kidding? It’s a block from the beach. I plan to sip margaritas and watch the sun set.”

“In Cocoa Beach?” Leo eyed her with a look that distantly reminded her of Josh. “You have fun with that.” Then he pulled open his desk drawer and lifted out a slim manila envelope which had Josh’s name printed on the front. He held it out, his face deadly serious. “Donna, I can’t emphasise enough how important it is that this file is seen by Josh, and only Josh.”

She nodded and reached to take it. “I understand.”

But he held onto it, tight. “Only Josh.”

“Leo, I would never—”

“I don’t mean you, Donna.” He held her gaze with a significant look that she didn’t miss. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“I… Do you want me to tell Josh not to show this to—”

Leo shook his head. “Just make sure he opens it in private, okay? He’ll understand when he reads it.”

She nodded, but there was a cold flutter in her stomach; she’d never encountered this much cloak-and-dagger before. “I’ll do that.” 

Leo released the file and she took it and slipped it into her attaché case. It was slim, couldn’t have been more than half a dozen pages inside. 

“Donna?”

He was leaning back in his chair, regarding her with a look somewhere between x-ray and inscrutable. “When he reads it, he’s going to be…disconcerted.”

She offered a small smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.”

“I know you will,” he nodded. “You’re a good girl, Donna.”

From anyone else it might have sounded patronising, but Leo McGarry was Leo McGarry and Donna took the compliment as it was intended. “Thank you. Do you want him to call you once he’s read it?”

Leo smiled bleakly. “I doubt you’d be able to stop him, but remind him that he doesn’t have a secure line.”

“I will.”

“Have a safe flight, Donna.”

With a brief nod she turned and left, the attaché case suddenly feeling heavy in her hand. Whatever this was about – and she was glad she didn’t know – it didn’t sound good. It sounded dangerous and unpleasant and she was pretty sure it was going to ruin Josh’s relaxing weekend. She just hoped he didn’t plan on shooting the messenger.

Leo had organised a car to take her to the airport, more for the sake of the documents she was carrying than for herself she suspected. Still, she enjoyed sweeping up to the terminal in the black sedan as if she really was someone, and not just someone’s assistant. Check-in was a breeze, and at the security checkpoint she pulled the envelope out of the attaché case and walked it through the metal detector. There was no way on God’s green Earth that she was sending it through on its own, knowing her luck it would end up on the way to Ohio.

Pretty soon, she found herself in a window seat toward the back of the plane with her attaché case on her lap and a diet coke in her hand. Below stretched banks of white cloud and the brilliant sunshine above promised a balmy, tropical evening. Not bad for her first Saturday off in months, she supposed. Even if she would be alone at a Motel 6. 

The flight was short, just over two hours, and the air stewards hurtled up and down the aisle plying drinks and peanuts before until the plane began its slow descent. The clouds had cleared and below she glimpsed the glitter of the ocean; she could almost smell the tang of salt and sand. But it was five already, and by the time she’d picked up her rental car and found Josh’s mother’s house, dealt with Josh’s stress attack over whatever was in the file she was carrying, and then found her hotel she doubted there’d be much time left for a swim. Oh well, there was always the morning.

The plane landed smoothly and Donna kept her seat while all the eager-beavers shot to their feet and stood for ten minutes in the aisle until the doors were ready to open. She never understood why people did that. Josh always did that, as if by standing there with his backpack slung over one shoulder he could force the ground staff to pull up the ramp faster. She preferred to sit, stare out at the mellow southern light and imagine – for a moment – that she wasn’t here on business. How wonderful to be whisked away to some exotic location by the love of your life…

Not that Orlando was what you’d call exotic, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. To be taken anywhere by the love of your life would be something. 

She sighed, looked around and saw that the crush had eased so slipped out of her seat and joined the line for the exit. The airport was busy, crowded with tourists and giant Disney stuffed toys. She threaded her way through them easily enough, picked up her luggage – and Josh’s – and headed for the car rental kiosk.

One long courtesy-bus ride later she was heading out of the airport and out of town. According to the map she’d printed, Josh’s mom’s house was a forty-five minute drive and as she sped down the highway she began to feel nervous. It was stupid, but the idea of gate-crashing Josh’s family weekend made her feel decidedly uncomfortable; it pointed out, she supposed, exactly where she fitted into his life. Her place was in the office, not out here. She was an intruder, and an unwelcome one at that she had no doubt. 

The only person who’d be pleased to see her would be Rachel, Josh’s mother. She smiled slightly at the thought. Donna liked Rachel a lot – in the days right after the shooting she’d been impressed by the woman’s steadiness and strength, and once Josh was on the mend she’d discovered Rachel’s sense of humour. They got on well, often talked on the phone – mostly about Josh, but sometimes other things too – and it would be good to see her again. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

She slowed the car as she entered Rachel’s neighbourhood, eyeing the large lots and glistening new houses. It seemed nice, comfortable and safe. She couldn’t help smiling as she imagined Josh’s reaction the first time he came down; Newport it wasn’t. But he was a New England snob, and it would do him good to see something south of the Mason-Dixon line for a change.

Rachel’s driveway was wide, and Donna pulled her rental in behind two other cars. Looked like everyone was home. Her nerves were partying now, churning around inside her stomach as she pulled Josh’s suit carrier off the back seat and snatched up the attaché case. She’d be glad to get rid of the thing at last, and let Josh worry about not losing it.

Slinging his suit over her shoulder, she climbed up the steps onto the wide porch and rang the bell. No one answered right away, and for a moment she was afraid she had the wrong house. But the number was right and suddenly the door was flung wide open. 

“Donna!” It was Rachel Lyman, as striking as Donna remembered, with her steel-grey hair, intelligent eyes and a smile as irresistible as her son’s. “I’m sorry I took so long to answer, we’re out by the pool. Come in, come in…” She wrapped her in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too,” Donna smiled back, awkwardly trying to return the hug with Josh’s suit bag and the briefcase in her hands.

Rachel smiled. “Are these for Josh? I’ll take them.”

Donna gratefully off-loaded the suit, but held onto the case. “I, uh, have to give him this in person. Sorry.”

“Right,” Rachel nodded, her smile slightly wry. “Government business.”

“I have no idea what it is,” Donna said. “But Leo threatened decapitation if I didn’t give it to Josh in person.”

Rachel laughed. “I know what Leo can be like, not a man to cross.” She nodded to the far side of the wide, tiled entryway. “Come through, they’re out by the pool.”

Her house was beautiful, white walled with warm terracotta tiles on the floors and immaculate, elegant furniture. “This is lovely,” Donna said. “Are you enjoying it down here?”

“Very much,” Rachel said. “I know Josh doesn’t approve, I know he didn’t want me to sell the house. But after Noah passed away I just needed a change. Too many memories some times, and they crowd in on those dark winter days.”

“Really,” Donna agreed. “There are times – in about February – where I think I’d actually kill for a day of warm sunshine.”

Rachel smiled and squeezed her arm. “Anytime, Donna. Come and visit. I mean it, I’d love to see you. ”

“Thank you. That’s…” Genuinely touched by the invitation, she wasn’t sure what else to say. “Thank you.”

Rachel just squeezed her arm again, leading her past an elegant dining room, through the family room and out onto a large, bright deck. Banana plants grew all around, shading some of the areas around the sparkling blue pool. It looked like heaven. Almost. But Donna’s eyes were instantly drawn to the sun bed on the far side of the pool where Amy Gardner was draped looking cool, tanned and curvaceous in her wisp of a bikini and her shades. Truth was, she looked amazing and Donna suddenly felt gawky and over-dressed. At Amy’s side – inevitably – was Josh, in nothing but a pair of shorts and with his nose buried in the Herald Tribune. 

Beautiful house, beautiful pool, beautiful people. It was like looking at a tableau: ‘How the other half live.’ Donna felt like a kid with her nose pressed up against the window, and wanted nothing but to escape as fast as possible. 

“Look who’s here!” Rachel called cheerfully. 

Amy raised a lazy hand. “Hey Donna, bummer of a Saturday job.”

“Yeah.” She’d got that right.

Josh lowered the paper with a snap and squinted at her. “I leave,” he sighed, “and yet I never really do.”

Typical. Shooting the messenger. She held out the case. “This wasn’t my idea.”

With a sigh he put the paper down, and Donna found her eyes inexorably drawn to his chest and shoulders. She couldn’t help it, she tried to look away but— Well, she couldn’t deny it, there were muscles there that she didn’t usually get to see beneath his shirt and tie. Nice muscles, and if he ever spent enough time outside to develop a tan…

For the love of God, woman, get a grip. Amy’s right there! 

Donna cleared her throat and started studying the banana plants, then the water in the pool which shimmered enticingly, but it was no good. Her eyes drifted back to her semi-naked boss and her attention was caught by his scars. Last time she’d seen them the surgical scar had been an eight inch red-raw rope along his sternum, still puffy with a minor post-op infection. Now it was a thin line, more white than pink. You could hardly see it at all. The scar from the bullet wound was more noticeable, raised and ragged, but even that was pale. Nothing like before, nothing like—

Josh grabbed a t-shirt from behind him and pulled it over his head. She felt like apologising, but when her eyes met his he gave her a little half-smile and she knew he didn’t mind. 

“Would you like a drink, dear?” Rachel asked. “You must be tired after your flight.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Donna assured her. “I won’t intrude, I just have to give this to Josh and then I’ll go check-in at the motel before—”

“Motel?” Rachel exclaimed. “Don’t be silly. You’re not staying at a motel.”

Donna glanced over at Josh, who was eyeing his mother with a strange expression. A death glare, perhaps? “No, really Rachel, I couldn’t—” She gestured toward Josh and Amy. “This is family time, I don’t—”

“Are you going to insult me, by refusing to stay in my house?” Rachel asked with an amused glint in her eye. “After everything you’ve done for my son, Donna?”

“No, I just—”

“Mom,” Josh sighed, “leave her alone. She can stay where she wants.” He cast Donna a sly look. “Probably wants to pick up guys in the bar tonight, we don’t want to cramp her style.”

There was a moment of utter silence. Donna stared, jaw dropping. Had he actually said that, to his mother? She felt herself blush, feeling ridiculous. 

Even Amy seemed shocked. “Wow, J,” she drawled. “Very gallant.”

“What?” he turned to her, then back to Donna. “I was kidding.”

“Joshua Lyman.” Rachel sounded like an exasperated school teacher. “Get your backside out to Donna’s car and bring in her bag, put it in the guest room and fix her a drink.”

Josh stared, almost laughing. “Mom—”

“Outside!”

He shot to his feet, and Donna might have laughed if she didn’t feel so wretched and out of place. The last thing she wanted to do was stay and watch Josh and Amy play happy families, but refusing now was impossible. 

“You think your kids will stop embarrassing you when they’re done with puberty,” Rachel confided in a loud whisper, just as Josh headed past them and back into the house, “but it just goes on and on!”

“Yeah, you’re funny,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m laughing here.”

“Are you cheeking me?” But Rachel was smiling, and Josh just threw up his hands in defeat as he disappeared out toward the front of the house. She turned to Donna with a wink. “I learned very early not to try arguing with Josh. He responds better to direct orders.”

Despite herself, Donna laughed. “Yeah, I’ve found that too.”

Across the pool Amy shifted and picked up Josh’s newspaper. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, but Donna had the distinct impression that they were fixed on her with a glare. 

“Now, sit down in the shade,” Rachel said. “Or would you like to change first? You brought a swim-suit I hope? The pool is beautiful, you must have a swim.”

Donna’s eyes returned again to Amy, sexy, seductive and curving in all the right places. She’d look like a piece of white string next to her, not that she was vain – well, no more than usual – but she hated the idea of Josh making a direct comparison. Stupid really, but there it was – his opinion was far more important to her than it should be. “I… That would be nice,” she decided. To hell with Josh’s opinion, she wasn’t going to let that stand between her and the Florida sunshine. 

Still clutching the briefcase, she let Rachel lead her back into the cool of the house, through the family room and upstairs toward the guest room. Josh met them on his way down. “I didn’t turn down the bed or put a mint on her pillow,” he confessed with a smile at his mom.

“Just get the woman a drink,” Rachel replied. “She’s had a long flight.”

“It’s two hours from DC!”

“Joshua…”

“Okay,” he grumbled. “You want coke?” he asked Donna. “It’s not diet.”

“Like she needs diet,” Rachel snorted. “There’s nothing of her.”

“Actually, Josh, do you have juice?”

He gave her a flat look. “Probably.”

“I’ll have juice then. I don’t mind what kind, but could you add a dash of water?”

The flat look turned into a knowing smile. “Anything else?”

“Ice. Not too much though, just enough to chill it but not dilute it.”

“And a cherry on top?”

Donna smiled sweetly. “There are cherries?”

He didn’t answer, just kept on walking down the stairs.

“What about one of those little umbrellas?” she called after him. 

“Funny!” he called back. “Both of you, hilarious. Really.”

 

The guest room was as beautiful as the rest of the house, with a wide bed piled with soft, white pillows and a view out over the pool. In the distance she could even glimpse the ocean. Her bag had been dumped in the centre of the bed, and she smiled at the idea of Josh carrying her things for once. 

“All the closets are empty,” Rachel was telling her. “Feel free to use them. And there’s a bathroom down the hall. You’ll have to share that with Josh and Amy, if you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine,” Donna smiled, hoping it didn’t look sickly. The disturbing image of Josh and Amy sharing a bathroom had popped into her head and she found it almost impossible to dislodge. 

“I’ll be downstairs then,” Rachel said. “Change, and come join us by the pool. We’re going to have a barbeque later.”

Left to herself for a moment, Donna realised that she still hadn’t handed over the damn file to Josh. He didn’t seem eager to read it, and she supposed she could understand that. Even so, she had her orders, so to speak. 

Resolutely she pulled out her swimsuit – one piece and strapless, to emphasise her shoulders and not her less-than-voluptuous chest – and the matching diaphanous sarong. When had she last worn this? She winced when she realised it was probably during the couple of hours personal time on their trip to LA back in ninety-nine. Dear God, she needed to get a life.

It still fitted, however, and she stood and studied herself in the mirror for a moment before braving Amy and her curves. Donnatelli-Spaghetti they’d called her at high school, because of her skinny arms and legs. These days she preferred to think of herself as ‘willowy’, but the bottom line was still the same; without surgery and silicone she’d never fill out a bikini like Amy Gardner. With a sigh she pulled her hair up into a pony tail to get it out of the way, a few random strands escaping as always, and stared at the final effect in the mirror. “Not bad,” she decided. “Alabaster skin, willowy limbs. I’m elegant, fragile. Statuesque.” Yes, she liked that one. Let Amy be sexy and sultry, she’d be the remote goddess on her pedestal.

The remote goddess carrying a stupid attaché case.

Picking it up again, she headed downstairs, the tiles cool against her bare feet as she padded through the huge entryway toward the pool. But movement caught her eye, and through a different door she saw Josh in the kitchen. Fixing her drink? She smiled at the idea, and went to join him. It actually looked like he was fixing drinks for everyone, and she smiled at that too.

“Your mom keeps you busy,” she observed from the doorway.

“All my life.” He didn’t turn around, stirring something in a large pitcher instead. “She thinks its character forming, only she’s forgotten that I formed my character about thirty years ago.”

Donna laughed softly. “I like your mother.”

“Yeah.” His voice warmed. “Yeah, me too.” He turned around, a drink in hand. “And she likes—” He stopped dead and stared at her, eyebrows climbing.

She shifted under his intense gaze, smoothing down the sarong with her free hand. “Josh? “

“Yeah?” His voice sounded rough around the edges.

“I need to give you this file.”

Josh nodded, still staring, and then blurted, “You don’t wear that to work.”

“No,” she agreed. “Leo said not to.”

“Right.” And with that he looked away, cleared his throat and began glaring at the drinks on the counter. “Right, files… Yeah. You’ve got the files.”

“File,” she corrected, setting the case down on the table and pulling out the slim envelope. “It’s not long.”

He turned, his gaze fixed on the file and nothing else. “You know what it’s about?”

“No,” she said. “Leo said it’s for your eyes only. And Josh?”

He looked up cautiously, as if he was afraid of what he might see. “Yeah?”

“Leo said… This isn’t me saying this, it’s Leo.” Her gaze drifted past him, out to the pool where Amy lay reading the Herald Tribune. “Leo said to open it in private, and not to show anyone.”

He blinked for a moment, then started shifting about. “Yeah. Right, okay. I get it.”

“He meant—”

“I know who he meant.” In two steps he was across the room and taking the envelope out of her hands. “I should read it now.”

She nodded. “Leo said you’d want to call him after, but to remember that you don’t have a secure line.”

“I don’t?” he cut her an irritated look. “Thanks Sherlock, I didn’t know that.”

“No need to be snippy, Josh. Spending the weekend with you and Amy isn’t exactly my idea of fun either.”

He said nothing, but looked a bit guilty as he stared down at the file in his hands and slowly walked toward the kitchen door. At the last moment he turned around. There was something familiar in his eyes, an energy that reminded her of long-ago lunches, rare and elusive moments they’d shared and never mentioned. And it reminded her of their dance last night… Josh opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and Donna’s pulse quickened ridiculously. He was staring at her, suddenly tense, and she knew he was trying to say something but after a long pause all he managed was, “Your hair looks…it looks…nice.”

My hair? She blinked and touched her haphazard ponytail. “Thanks.”

He smiled edgily and then frowned, disappearing back into the quiet house. After a moment she heard the click of a door closing.

It was the quiet before the storm, and to distract herself from the coming thunder – and from the inexplicably heated look he’d just given her – Donna set about finding a tray for the drinks he’d made. She’d only just discovered one in the vast kitchen when she heard a door open. She braced for the slam, but it never came. Instead, after a few moments, Josh walked back into the kitchen. He looked pale, he actually looked white. “Josh?” she was at his side in an instant. “What’s happened?”

He shook his head and sank onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I can’t tell you.”

“Oh my God,” she sat opposite him. “Josh? Is it bad?”

“Maybe,” he nodded. “It might be, or not.” Then he laughed bleakly and ran a hand over his face. “God, it’s already bad. It’s already done, but—” He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, then blew out a breath and sat up. “You staying around?”

“Leo said you might need me at the meeting tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.” And then he was up, pacing the kitchen. “You know,” he said, the file curled up into a cylinder and tapping against his leg, “this isn’t why we’re here. This isn’t why we work twenty hours a day for—” He stopped himself, sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He still looked ill.

She took a step closer. “Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look pale.”

“I’m fine.”

Fine. He wouldn’t admit to anything else unless he’d actually passed out. “You need to talk to Leo?”

Josh nodded, sighed and opened his eyes. “Yeah, could you get him?” He reached into his pocket and tossed her his phone. “I’ll take the drinks outside.”

She watched him go for a moment, balancing the tray awkwardly as he struggled to open the door. “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“You look good as a cabana boy.”

His frown cracked a little, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “Get back to work.”

She smiled and dialled Leo’s number. But her humour didn’t last; she’d never seen Josh so shaken, not even by the MS disclosure. It killed her not knowing; it killed her not being able to help him. It killed her knowing that Amy was out there and that she might be the one he told, despite Leo’s warning – that she might be the one he turned to when he looked so shocked and pale.

It killed her that once it had been her, and that now it wasn’t. 

 

It was surreal, Josh thought, to be standing by the pool holding a tray of drinks while his mind whirled with the truth he’d just learned. Suddenly he longed for his office, for the constant hum of conversation and noise that filled the bullpen. Out here, in the bright sunlight, he felt too exposed. He felt out of control. He needed to see Leo, the President – anyone to talk this through. To make sense of it.

“Hey, J,” Amy said lazily, peering at him over the top of his newspaper. “Thought you got lost in there.”

“Sorry.” He put the tray down on the wooden table and handed his mom a drink. “I just read through the file Donna brought down.”

Amy pulled her sunglasses down her nose far enough that she could look at him over the rims. “Anything interesting?”

“Nothing I can talk about.”

Her gaze hardened. “Nothing you can talk about? Or nothing you can talk to me about?”

She always had to push it. Always. “I got you a coke,” he said, refusing the bait. “No ice.”

“Did Leo tell you not to tell me?”

“Amy…” he gestured around them, toward the house and the pool and his mom, who was determinedly ignoring the tiff. 

“If you can’t trust me, Josh…”

She was like a dog with a damn bone! “Look—”

“Josh?” It was Donna, coming out of the kitchen with his phone. “It’s Leo.”

With a frustrated look at Amy, he turned and took the phone from Donna. She seemed genuinely worried and he offered her a reassuring smile, keeping his eyes on her face and not letting them drift to the pale skin on her shoulders and collarbone, and down toward her— Alabaster, she’d called it once. He thought it was more like cream, soft and silky and—

“Josh?” It was Leo.

He turned away, grateful for the distraction, and started pacing to the far end of the pool. In a low voice he hissed, “I can’t believe you did this.”

“There was no choice, Josh. Trust me, we had no alternative—”

“Yes you did. Not doing it was an alternative. Just not doing it.”

“Well it’s done.” 

“And it makes us as bad as them.” Couldn’t he see that? “What’s the difference? Seriously, Leo, if we’re just going to disregard international law when we want—”

“Josh. Not on the phone, we’ll have this discussion when you get back. I just need you to brief the Senator.”

“Because you think we’ll have to go public?”

“We might. It’s possible that one of the parties might go public this week.” Leo gave a dark laugh. “If you’re worried about it effecting the election—”

“It’s not that. It won’t. Hell we’d probably win every vote in Indiana.” Josh sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I thought we were better than this. I thought we held ourselves to a higher standard.”

“The air’s pretty rare up there on the moral high ground, Josh. Down here in the trenches we need to make compromises, for the safety of our people. Make me your first meeting when you get back, we’ll discuss it more.”

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“And Josh? If you need to talk… Look, if you need to talk it through before the meeting, talk to Donna.” 

And not Amy. He didn’t say it, but it’s absolutely what he meant. With a sigh, Josh looked back along the pool to where Donna was chatting to his mother, her attention flitting between himself and his mom. Her concerned gaze caught his and he held onto it. Truth was he wanted to tell Donna, far more than he wanted to tell Amy. Amy’s reaction would mirror his own – outrage, anger, betrayal – and it wouldn’t offer him anything new. She was an idealist, for all her cynicism. But Donna… She often had a different perspective. In her quirky way she’d frequently helped him see things in new a light. If anyone could make sense of this, it would be her. “I might,” Josh said quietly. “Yeah, I might.” 

“No one else.”

“I know.”

And with that he hung up and tried to settle his stormy thoughts well enough to contemplate barbeque and small-talk. There was nothing he could do, other than brood, and that wasn’t what this weekend was meant to be about. Maybe he’d talk to Donna later, but for now he had to put it to the back of his mind and concentrate on impressing Amy. And so he carefully filed it away with all those other parts of his life he tried not to think about, pocketed his cell phone, and headed back to the others.

Amy was watching him, her lips compressed like a pouting rosebud, and he wanted to try and explain. He wanted to make her understand that it wasn’t personal, that it was just work, but with Donna and his mom sitting right there he couldn’t say anything. Frustrated, he dropped down onto the sun-bed next to her and tried to relax. 

A silence descended over the little group, a silence full of words that couldn’t be spoken. Donna was watching him, but clearly dared not ask what he’d discussed with Leo. Amy was fuming because she thought he was cutting her out, his mother had that resigned look she usually wore when trying to bite her tongue, and Josh… He felt torn in half. He wanted to fix things with Amy, to make her smile and not pout, but at the same time he ached to grab Donna’s arm, drag her inside and spill the whole mess. He needed to talk to her, to have her turn the problem upside-down and tell him he was overreacting. 

He wanted a sounding board, he wanted— Donna turned her head, a breeze stirring a few wisps of hair that hadn’t made it into her ponytail, and something tugged hard at the pit of his stomach. 

He shook himself, ignoring it as always. He wanted a sounding board, he wanted— This far south the sunlight was mellow and buttery, its effect on her creamy skin and golden hair enchanting, and he wanted…

He wanted her.

Shocked by the sudden flash of desire, Josh snapped his eyes away from Donna. Amy shifted irritably at his side, muttering under her breath, and he felt suddenly light headed.

What the hell’s wrong with you? Talk to Amy, connect with her again. Fix this!

But with Donna and his mother just feet away—

“I think I’ll start fixing dinner,” his mom said abruptly, standing up. “Donna, would you like to help?”

Donna was on her feet before his mom had finished speaking. “I’d love to.” Josh didn’t miss the relief in her voice, or the way she all but fled into the house, but he didn’t pause to analyse her reasons. He was alone with Amy, at last, and had business to attend to…

 

Donna could have kissed Rachel Lyman at that moment. She’d been on the point of faking a sudden headache and disappearing to her bedroom, anything to escape the way Josh was staring at her as if wishing her a million miles away. He wanted to be alone with Amy, it was so obvious that he might as well have printed it across the front of his t-shirt. And she was in the way, the third wheel in the most horrible way possible.

It was enough to make her nauseous. 

“I’m going to fix a salad,” Rachel said as she led the way into the kitchen. “And marinate some chicken, steaks…” She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No.” Relief at escaping from the Josh-and-Amy show was making her giddy. “I’ll eat anything. As long as it’s not moose.”

“Moose? I don’t think that’s a Florida speciality.”

Donna laughed. “No. It’s just, Josh brought me back half a tonne from Helsinki...”

“Moose? How thoughtful of him.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Josh…” 

Rachel tutted as she opened the refrigerator door and started pulling out salad fixings. Before long there was a huge pile on the counter, and Donna found herself chopping and slicing with Rachel at her side fiddling with spices and oils and meat. It was the sort of domestic scene she’d never enjoyed with her own mother; her mom’s idea of cooking was something that went straight from the freezer to the microwave. It was nice, Donna decided; female bonding over sliced vegetables.

“So tell me,” Rachel said as she sprinkled something over a dish of raw chicken, “how is he?”

“Josh?” Donna glanced out the window and saw him sitting on the edge of the sun bed talking earnestly with Amy. “He’s fine.”

Rachel cut her a quick look. “Really? Because you know he never tells me anything.”

“Really,” Donna reassured her. “I mean… He’s stressed, worried about the election, but we all are. And you know Josh, I’m not sure he knows how to function without stress.”

Rachel gave a soft laugh. “That’s true enough.” 

They were silent for a few minutes, the quiet thud of Donna’s knife against the thick wooden chopping board the only noise until Rachel said, “Is he still seeing his therapist?”

Donna’s knife froze mid-chop. 

“I’m his mother,” Rachel said when Donna didn’t answer. “And you know Josh… He didn’t even tell me about the business with the window, I heard it from Leo.”

“He doesn’t want to worry you.”

“Not knowing is worse,” she said quietly, and when Donna glanced in her direction she saw that Rachel was gazing out the window again. Josh and Amy had moved, now standing by the edge of the pool. He had his arms around her, she was leaning her back against his chest, talking quietly.

It was difficult for Donna to witness; it was exactly the sort of scene she’d spent the past six months trying to avoid. Looking away hurriedly, she focused on the pile of tomatoes and the movement of her knife. It was incredibly sharp and sliced through them like soft butter. She could identify; her heart felt pretty much the same.

“Donna?” Rachel was regarding her with a curious look in her eyes. So much like her son’s… “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied. “Um, I was just going to say that he still sees his therapist once a month, but I think he’s probably going to stop soon. He’s back to normal, more or less.” 

“More or less?”

“Well, he is fine. He has no problems with music or sirens or any of the triggers. But he still doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“The shooting? Or what happened after?”

“Both, really. He’ll change the subject, make a joke. I don’t know, maybe that’s normal. Maybe it’s just Josh.”

“He’s always hated to be seen as vulnerable,” Rachel said, her voice gently maternal. “But he’s not— Josh isn’t as tough as people think he is.”

“I know.”

“Yes,” Rachel smiled, “yes, I think you do.”

Donna didn’t answer – she couldn’t, without giving herself away – and Rachel seemed to understand that because a comfortable silence fell over them. Donna kept chopping, kept avoiding looking at Josh and Amy, and Rachel bustled around and tidied up what she’d been doing, threw ingredients into a bread maker, and eventually returned to the counter in front of the window. Donna slid a glance in her direction as she finished up the salad, watching Rachel watch her son. Eventually, in a quiet voice, Rachel said, “So, what to you make of this Amy business?”

Donna’s heart turned over. “What?”

“Amy,” Rachel repeated. “What do you make of her?”

There was no way – no way! – Donna was going to answer that. “I, um… It’s really not my business. Josh is my boss, and his personal life isn’t—”

“Oh, come on,” Rachel chided. “You must have an opinion.”

“Not one I’m about to share.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Josh’s mother looked at her. “So you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then you do like her?”

Donna smiled suddenly. “I’m not going to be drawn on this.”

With a speculative hum, Rachel returned her gaze to the window and Donna’s eyes reluctantly followed. Josh and Amy were still out there, canoodling at the edge of the pool. They were sitting down now, feet dangling in the water – the perfect couple in the evening sunlight. “He seems…smitten,” Rachel said after a while. “I’ve seen him like this before.”

Which was a surprise, because Donna hadn’t. “Really?”

“Lindsay Allen, senior year at high school,” Rachel chuckled. “It didn’t last a semester after he started Harvard, but he was just like this. Smitten.”

Strangely, Donna found the thought comforting. She’d assumed all this puppy-dog behaviour was because Amy was ‘the one’. But if he’d been like this before… She turned away from the window, resting her back against the counter, and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure she should say anything, but Rachel was his mom and she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone else. “The first time I saw him with Amy,” she began quietly, “was in the White House. There’s always a party after the State of the Union, and we were concerned about the polling numbers. I was talking to Josh – it wasn’t anything important, just teasing him – and suddenly Amy came up and smacked him on the back of the head.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“To get his attention, I guess. She dragged him off, they talked… I don’t know what happened. But,” Donna frowned, considering her next words carefully, “she didn’t know me. She didn’t understand our working relationship, and I thought she should have shown him more respect in front of his staff, and in his place of work.”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “Yes she should.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Donna added, “your son has an ego that sometimes needs to be…”

“Deflated?”

She laughed at that. “I was going to say grounded. He needs to be grounded sometimes, but not like that. He’s—” She stopped, not sure how much to say, not wanting to reveal too much of her own feelings. But then she remembered who she was talking to, and that no praise would ever be considered extravagant. “He’s a good man, Rachel. He’s dedicated, brilliant, incredibly good at what he does… I just think he deserves more respect than Amy gives him.”

Rachel smiled, her eyes bright, but she didn’t answer. She just reached out and squeezed Donna’s arm tightly. After a moment, and in an emotional voice, she whispered, “I’m glad he has you, Donna. I’m glad you’re there to watch out for him. I’m glad you understand him.”

“I don’t do—”

“Yes you do,” she said fiercely. “I haven’t forgotten what you did for him, Donna. Right after Rosslyn, and that Christmas… And I think you still look after him.”

Suddenly embarrassed, Donna shook her head and cursed the blood rushing to her face. “It’s my job to make his life easier.”

“I know.” Rachel was backing off, perhaps sensing Donna’s discomfort. “And you do it well. He hasn’t missed my birthday once since you started working for him.”

She smiled at that, glad to move away from the other, charged, topic. “He’d hate himself if he forgot,” she said, “but his life is so hectic sometimes he really doesn’t know what day it is.”

“And that’s why I’m glad he has you, Donna. He needs you.”

Donna shook her head, but didn’t answer. “Is there anything else to chop, before I put this away?”

Rachel smiled slightly, as if considering saying more, but obviously thought better of it. Instead, she returned to the fridge and started pulling out fruits of all kind. Donna almost laughed. Chopping therapy? Why not? It was as good a cure for heartache as anything else she’d tried.


	3. What Must Not Be Said

Dinner was delicious, and Donna was relieved that they ate at the heavy wooden table in the kitchen rather than the elegant dining room she’d glimpsed on the way in. It made her wonder about Josh, and his childhood. She’d always known he’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, but seeing it all up close made the contrast with her own childhood all the more stark. Dining room? Her family ate on their laps, in front of the TV. 

But the kitchen was friendly and informal, and after a glass of wine Donna began to relax. Only one glass, though. She hadn’t forgotten the champagne-induced moment at the fundraiser, and had no desire at all to make a fool of herself here. Her only consolation was that Josh had been even more drunk, and probably didn’t remember anything about it. He certainly didn’t seem to…

Donna found herself sitting next to Rachel, opposite Josh. It saved her from having to make small-talk with Amy, who looked depressingly gorgeous in some kind of strappy number that showed off the tan she’d been working on all day. On the other hand, Donna couldn’t ignore the way Josh was deliberately not avoiding her gaze, as if by pretending she wasn’t there she might actually disappear. It was irritating; if he wanted her gone, why hadn’t he forced Rachel to let her stay in a motel – like she’d wanted to! He was the Deputy White House Chief of Staff, for crying out loud. What was the good of that if he couldn’t even—

“We should probably leave early tomorrow,” Josh said suddenly, glancing up quickly and then back at his plate. “It’s a two hour drive, and if you’re navigating…”

“I’m driving,” she told him. “I have a rental car, in my name, and I’m driving.”

“You know I can’t read in a moving car—”

“You don’t have to read, just look at the map.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “it’s called map reading, Donna.”

She shrugged. “Maybe your mom has some travel pills?”

“So I actually fall asleep in the middle of the meeting? Brilliant.” He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “I’m driving.”

With a harrumph, she sat back in her chair and realised that Rachel and Amy were both watching their conversation. One with amusement, the other with something hidden behind her dark eyes. Donna wasn’t sure if it was irritation or rivalry. “Okay,” Donna sighed with exaggerated reluctance, “you can drive, on one condition.”

He looked up under his eyebrows. “You do realise I’m your boss, right?”

“Two conditions,” Donna amended. “One, you don’t complain about my map reading. And two, if we get lost—”

“Highly probable, with you navigating.”

“Two,” she continued, “if we get lost, you stop and let me ask for directions.”

He snorted.

“I’m serious!” Donna exclaimed. “It’s not going to be like that time in Ohio.”

“Oh, we’re going to do this again?” He put down his fork and settled back for a fight. She could see it in the way his eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t lost. It was an alternate route.”

“We ended up Detroit .”

“It was an alternate route.”

“It’s in a different state!”

“It was an alternate route.”

“This is what they teach you at Yale?” she scoffed. “How to win an argument by repeating the same fallacious point over and over?”

“It’s not fallacious, it’s—”

“You were lost! And if we’d stopped at that gas station, like I suggested, we’d never have gotten stuck forever in the Detroit traffic and you’d—”

“This potato salad’s great, Mrs. L,” Amy interrupted. “Do you have, like, a secret ingredient?”

Donna swallowed the rest of her words and exchanged a look with Josh. Ooops… They both knew their bickering sometimes drove people nuts, like noisy kids in the back of the car. Of course, what most people didn’t understand was that the bickering was fun. Too much fun, perhaps.

“Chives, paprika and mayonnaise,” Rachel was telling Amy. “That’s all.”

“I can taste the paprika,” Amy agreed. And then she stole a look at Josh and said, “So, you don’t have to cube the potatoes?”

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. “Cube the potatoes?”

“Or is that only a stew thing, J?”

He was squirming, which Donna found quite amusing. “No, it’s just—”

Rachel suddenly leaned across the table, her voice dropping into a faux-whisper. “When Josh was a child he was a very fussy eater. In the end I told him to eat what he was given, or go without. If I were you, I’d do the same.”

“It’s not like I cook for him, or anything.” Amy was instantly on the defensive – God forbid anyone mistake her for a domestic goddess – and Rachel backed off, looking a little offended. 

There was a moment of sharp silence, too sharp for Donna to bear. She had to say something. “That was delicious, Rachel. If I eat any more, I won’t fit into my suit in the morning!”

“Well, then I guess you won’t be fitting into your suit, Donna. Because I made desert…”

Josh looked up. “Rugelach?”

“Of course.”

“Raspberry-and-chocolate fudge?”

“And cinnamon, and raisin nut.”

“Oh yeah…” His wide grin – dimples and all – almost knocked Donna off her chair. “You’re going to love these. They literally melt in your mouth and—”

“It’s a pastry, right?” Amy lifted her wine glass and drained it. “Made with cream cheese?” 

Josh’s smile faltered, and Donna could have sworn she saw a flash of guilt cross his face as he turned to her and said, “Yeah, you’ve had them?”

“Sure. When I was in New York there was this great bakery just around the corner…” Her eyes darted to Donna. “No good Jewish bakeries in Minnesota, huh?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I’m from Wisconsin.”

“Right,” Amy drawled, leaning over and looping her arm through Josh’s. “I always get the ones in the middle mixed up.”

It was a cheap shot – not worthy of the woman’s Yale education – and Donna had no plan to rise to it. But she couldn’t help glancing at Josh, to see how he’d taken the comment. He looked uncomfortable, and she was glad. So he should. “Rug-a-lach?” she asked Rachel, struggling slightly with the pronunciation.

“They’re Polish originally, I think,” Rachel replied, getting to her feet and starting to clear the table. “And don’t worry, they’re calorie free.”

Donna grinned and reached over to add Josh’s empty plate to her own. “Well, in that case…”

It didn’t take long to clear the table, and Josh was right, rugelach were delicious – especially the raspberry-chocolate-fudge ones. Josh ate at least four, and Donna didn’t miss the affectionate smile Rachel threw in his direction. It was hard to imagine Josh as anyone’s little boy, what with the swaggering and breathtaking arrogance, but when Rachel smiled at him like that Donna could see him through her eyes. It wasn’t the first time, of course. She’d seen them together after the shooting, and remembered being shocked and touched and deeply moved by the sight of Rachel at his bedside. There were times even a grown man needed his mother, and that had been one of them. It wasn’t anything she’d ever talk about, but she remembered and she saw a reflection of that love between them now. A bright, happy reflection that made her smile.

In fact, so lost was she in her thoughts that she missed Rachel’s question the first time and turned with a start when she realised someone was talking to her. “What? I’m sorry, I was… Sorry.”

Rachel smiled. “I was just asking if you’d had to cancel any plans to come down here this weekend.”

“Oh. No, not really. I’ve kinda given up making plans.” She glanced at Josh. “I work a lot.”

He just shrugged, but didn’t deny it.

“That must be difficult,” Rachel said, helping herself to another pastry. “I know Josh never seems to have time for…” She hesitated briefly, “For a life outside the office.”

“She means,” Josh said around a mouthful of desert, “grandkids.”

“I do not!” Rachel protested, although Donna suspected Josh had it right. Her own mother never stopped talking about the biological clock. With a roll of her eyes toward her son, Rachel said, “So what about you, Donna? Is there anyone you don’t make plans with?”

She blinked and hoped she’d misunderstood the question. “Is there…? Sorry, what did you—”

“She’s asking about your love life,” Josh said with a smirk. He pushed his plate slightly toward her, and Donna noticed that he’d left her half his pastry. She wondered what Amy would make of it if she reached out and took it from his plate. 

Rachel puffed out an irritated sigh. “I was just asking—”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Donna cut in, hoping to close the subject quickly. 

“Well that’s a shame,” said Rachel. “Josh, you need to give her more time off. The girl needs a life too.”

“Hah!” he snorted, rocking back in his chair. “Are you kidding? I can’t keep track of all the men in her life, I don’t know how she has time to work at all.”

Donna sighed. “Sometimes,” she told Rachel, “your son likes to deliberately talk utter nonsense.”

“Oh come on!” Josh protested. “You must have gotten through half the Republican party by now.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. Was he— Was that a reference to Cliff Calley?

“Really?” Amy said, biting into the last of the rugelach, “I thought it was only the short ones she liked.”

Oh my God. Amy knew. Josh had told her about Cliff, about the diary… He’d talked about her. Gossiped. Laughed? She felt sick. She couldn’t look at him, or any of them. The blood was rushing to her face, her eyes were pricking and there was a knot in her throat. He’d talked about her, about her life, about one of her stupidest mistakes. How could he? How could he do that to her? She didn’t know if she was more hurt, angry or humiliated. 

“I don’t think,” Josh said in a strained voice. “I mean, I was just…” He cleared his throat. “Donna?”

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t look up; if she spoke her voice would crack and she’d look even more ridiculous. Instead she picked up the pastry on her plate and nibbled the edge. She couldn’t swallow, but better that than try to speak. 

“Would anyone like coffee?” Rachel asked brightly. 

“Sounds good,” said Amy, but Josh just mumbled something unintelligible. He was still trying to catch Donna’s eye, she could feel it. Tough. 

“Why don’t you two go through to the living room?” Rachel suggested to Josh. “Donna, could you give me a hand in the kitchen for a moment?”

Thank God! She all but fled from the table, but Josh stood up as she did and tried to reach for her hand. She was too fast though; anything to put some distance between them. If she didn’t cry she was going to punch him on the nose, and she wasn’t sure which would be worse.

He’d told Amy about Cliff, he was joking about it with her. She was the butt of an in-joke between Josh and his girlfriend! A joke about what an idiot she’d made of herself, about how he’d had to save her skin… 

It felt as though Josh had just dropped her world and watched it shatter like glass at his feet.

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. If he thought hard enough Josh was pretty sure he could come up with a dozen better words, but right now it fitted. Stupid! Why the hell had he mentioned it, and why the hell had Amy said what she did? What the hell did she have to gain from demeaning Donna? 

“That wasn’t fair,” he told her in a low voice once they were alone in the living room.

She turned, her eyes glittering with either anger or desire. He couldn’t tell which, although it was possibly both. “You brought it up,” she retorted. “I didn’t know she’d go all girly about it.”

“You don’t know— It’s more complicated than you realise.”

Her head tilted. “What is? Your relationship with Donna?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Now I’m stupid?”

“You’re acting stupid!” Realising he was approaching a shout, Josh lowered his voice. “The thing about Donna dating Republicans is more complicated than you realise.”

“Then why did you mention it?” 

Because when I see her with men like Calley it makes me crazy. Because I can’t stand the thought of them touching her. Because I want— “I don’t know. It was stupid.”

Amy shrugged and turned away, sauntering over to the book cases. An entire wall was lined with them; many of the books had come from the study at home. Well, his ex-home. Someone else lived there now, he guessed. This modern, sterile place in Florida would never be home. Not for him, at least. 

“Is this your sister?” Amy asked abruptly, picking up a framed photo. Her voice was abrasive in the quiet room.

He followed her to the bookshelf, his mind still preoccupied with Donna. She was angry, she’d gotten the wrong end of the stick as usual, but she was upset and he couldn’t bear that. He could never bear that. “Yeah,” he said distractedly, glancing at the picture. “That’s her.” It still hurt, would always hurt, but the pain was well-worn and familiar now. It was part of him.

“She was pretty.”

“She was beautiful.”

Amy looked back at him, her eyes softer, and returned the photo to the shelf. “You don’t talk about her.”

“No.”

With a slight shrug Amy’s attention drifted away and then back to him. “I don’t think your mom likes me.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true.”

With a rueful laugh Amy shook her head. “She likes Donna.”

“No, it’s just… She knows Donna, that’s all.” He curled a finger under Amy’s chin, lifting up her face so he could look her in the eye. “She just has to get to know you better.”

“She and Donna have this thing. This connection.”

“It’s only because after the shooting they were—”

“You have it too.”

“What?”

“You and Donna, you have it too. A connection, a rapport.”

He laughed, but it sounded more nervous than amused. “It’s just because we work closely.” It couldn’t be more than that, because if it was more than that then they couldn’t work closely anymore and if she wasn’t there, at the centre of his life, then he didn’t know how he’d—

“Do you love me?”

The question knocked him sideways. “Yes,” he blurted. “I’ve told you.” And he’d meant it. He’d meant it then, and he still did. Except now he couldn’t get the image of Donna’s hurt eyes out of his mind, and he just wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and say sorry and feel her hair against his face and—

“I think I…might love you too.”

Amy was looking up at him through her long, dark lashes, her perfect lips seductive and oh-so-kissable. Reeling him in. She loves me… His hands slipped around her waist, his body eager for the contact, but his mind was spinning like a broken wheel. He loved Amy, he was with Amy. She was his woman! And Donna was just his assistant, except for the thing with her hair and that painful weight that had settled into his chest when he thought about her hurt eyes…

“Here’s the coffee!” His mother breezed in, quite possibly saving him from complete mental and emotional breakdown. “Donna’s just gone to freshen up.”

Josh scanned his mom’s face. Was that code for crying? Had he made her cry? He wanted to ask if she was okay, but Amy had said that she loved him and was dragging him down onto the two-seater next to her. 

He was about to ask, regardless, when Donna herself appeared in the doorway. She didn’t look like she’d been crying, thank God, but she did look pale and pissed. 

“Rachel?” she said, deliberately ignoring Josh. “I thought I might take a walk on the beach.”

His mother nodded. “Good idea, some fresh air will—”

“Are you kidding?”

Everyone turned and stared at him. Eventually his mom said, “I beg your pardon, Joshua?”

“It’s dark,” he pointed out. “It’s dark outside. She can’t go walking on the beach in the dark.”

“Of course she can,” his mom said, turning back to Donna. “Have a nice time, dear. And make sure you park—”

“No.” Josh was on his feet now and halfway across the room. “She can’t go walking about on the beach in the dark. Who knows how many creeps hang out down there! It’s pitch black, there’s no light or—”

“Lighten up, J!” Amy slouched back in the sofa, staring at him like he’d grown another head. “She can go for a walk where she wants.”

“No,” he protested. “She really can’t, it’s not safe. Women can’t—”

“Woman can’t go out alone after dark?” Amy finished for him. “You sure that’s what you mean? You don’t mean that men shouldn’t attack women who—”

“Men don’t attack women!” he snapped. “Weirdoes, freaks, deviants who—”

Amy snorted a laugh. “So says the bastion of liberal thought. Deviants? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s not a feminist thing!” he protested. “It’s about safety, and not putting yourself at risk.”

“And that’s not a feminist thing? The fact that a woman can’t walk the streets after dark isn’t a feminist thing?”

He felt like pulling his hair out. “I’m not saying it’s a good thing! It just is. Right now that’s how it is, and it’s stupid for a woman to go somewhere where she could be—”

The click of the closing front door cut him off mid-sentence. He spun around, heard a car engine roar into life, and realised Donna was gone. “Great!” he growled. “Just—” He pulled out his phone, but to his surprise his mom’s hand closed over his.

“Leave her alone,” she said quietly. 

“Mom… She probably thinks it’s—”

“Have some coffee and tell me how you first met Amy, Josh. Donna will be fine.”

Only she wouldn’t, because she’d run off to the beach to get away from him because he’d made a stupid joke at her expense and she thought he’d betrayed her trust, and if anything happened to her – anything – it would be his fault. And that would destroy him, it would utterly destroy him.

 

For someone who’d grown up about as far from the ocean as you could possibly get, Donna had always felt that she had an affinity for the sea. The constant roar and hiss of the surf comforted her, like the steady breathing of some friendly giant. Even when it was so dark she couldn’t so much as see a wave. 

Josh had been right. It was dark, and quiet. There were a couple of other cars parked in the small lot – night fishermen, she guessed – but aside from that no one was around. It was probably safe enough, she figured, but Donna Moss was a city girl and couldn’t bring herself to take the risk. Knowing her luck she’d trip over a rock, break her ankle and never hear the end of it again. So instead she sat at the end of the short boardwalk, still within the circle of light cast by the streetlamp in the parking lot, and dangled her feet in the sand.

It felt cool against her toes, almost cold. But the air had that delicious salty tang that reminded her of summer vacations and the ocean still roared and hissed in the darkness. After the stress of the Lyman family home, it was positively idyllic.

Not that she blamed Rachel; it wasn’t her fault her son had turned out to be an insensitive, disloyal jackass. After all, in her experience, he was no different from most men. Dare she say, all.

She sighed and flung her head back, gazing up at the stars. It was getting harder. The whole Amy thing was getting harder, seeing them together – knowing that the secrets she’d assumed safe with Josh now belonged to Amy too. That was hard. She couldn’t help feeling that she’d lost something, although in truth she knew she’d never owned it in the first place. 

Realistically, what were the chances of anything beyond friendship ever developing between herself and Josh? Sure, there was an attraction, but Donna knew she wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted someone like himself – a fast-thinking, fast-talking Ivy League dynamo. Someone like Mandy, or Amy. Or even Joey Lucas, although Donna suspected that had never worked out because Joey was simply too nice. Josh enjoyed more of a challenge in his women. He also liked brunettes.

She scored a fat zero on all points, except, perhaps, for the fast-talking. But she didn’t argue with him like Amy did, she didn’t argue policy. Frankly, Donna didn’t know why they didn’t drive each other crazy with all the ranting, but perhaps that was the turn on for them? What else were activists going to talk to each other about – aside from her stupid mistake with Cliff Calley, of course.

She sighed. The sooner they got back to DC the better. It was being here that caused the problems, seeing him and Amy together. Back home she could ignore it, concentrate on the work she loved and slowly date her way through the White House. Who knew, perhaps there was someone else out there who could make her laugh, then make her want to slap him, and then make her want to hug him close – all within the space of five minutes. It was a rare gift, she admitted, but Josh couldn’t be the only one who possessed it, could he?

Josh couldn’t be the only one for her, because that wouldn’t be fair. That would just be cruel.

 

Rachel Lyman paused as she finished unloading the dishwasher. In the hallway she could hear Josh talking with Amy, their voices too low to make out the words, but his tone was unmistakable. Stubborn. 

He’d been like it since he was two years old and had refused to let her tie his shoe laces, despite the fact that his own chubby fingers found the task impossible. Stubborn. She could still hear his little voice, all lisp and half-formed words, ‘No! Joss do it! Joss do it!’ It seemed like yesterday, but was almost a lifetime ago now. Two lifetimes, really – her husband’s, and her daughter’s. And, almost, her son’s.

But she heard it again now, that stubborn refusal, rising in pitch until the words became audible. “Patronizing? Have you completely lost the plot?”

Raising her eyebrows, Rachel tried not to listen. But it was difficult to avoid.

“Fine, whatever.” That was Amy, not even trying to keep her voice down anymore. “But I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.”

“And don’t even think about trying to get lucky tonight!”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what—”

Rachel closed the dishwasher with a loud clunk and the hallway rang with an embarrassed silence. There were some things a mother really didn’t need to know about her son’s life! After a moment she heard muted voices and Amy’s footsteps heading up the stairs, then Josh appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Hey,” he said.

“Josh,” she smiled. “Off to bed?”

He shook his head. “I’m going to… I’m just going to sit out front for a while.”

Rachel wanted to grin, but knew better. “Are you waiting up for Donna?”

“No.” Then he frowned at the floor, and glanced up cautiously. “Maybe.”

“That’s nice,” she told him. And right, and just as it should be, but she didn’t tell him that. “Come on, I’ll sit with you a while. I’m not tired yet.”

The night air was balmy and the light from the kitchen spilled out onto the wide porch far enough that Rachel could see her son running his fingers over the swing-seat she’d had the removal guys bring all the way down from Newport.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” he said quietly.

“Can’t you?” She smiled and moved to sit down on the seat, patting it for him to join her. “I remember you and your Dad sitting on this every Sunday morning, him reading the paper and you reading the comics.”

Josh laughed softly, sadly. “Yeah, me too.” With a sigh he sat back, his weight setting the swing rocking as he stared out toward the houses on the far side of the street. “I miss him.”

“So do I.” She reached out and took his hand, holding tight. “But you understand why I had to move.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I do. I really do.” And then he seemed to collect himself, and in a more cheerful voice added, “It’s nice here. I mean, the weather… No more snow, I can see the appeal.”

“I’m glad you came down, Josh. I don’t see you enough, and it’s nice to meet Amy at last.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. She’s a very spirited young woman; she reminds me of you.”

He grunted half a laugh and sat forward, foot tapping nervously. “Amy thinks you prefer Donna.”

Ah, how awkward... “That’s not true.” 

“I told her that.”

The lie, Rachel hoped, was forgivable under the circumstances. “It’s just that I know Donna.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“And I know how much Donna cares about you.”

He looked at her, startled. “What?”

“She cares about you Josh. She looks after you.”

“That’s not what she does,” he said with a nervous shake of his head. “She’s my assistant. She assists, she doesn’t look after me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His nervous grin was almost a laugh. “What does that mean?”

“It means okay.”

He looked away, down at the floor. “Donna has a lot of dates, I wasn’t exaggerating before.”

“Well, she’s a very attractive girl,” Rachel agreed.

“Yeah.”

“And so is Amy,” she added for good measure. Josh nodded, but didn’t answer. After a moment Rachel said, “Do you love her?”

He went very still. “She’s my assistant, mom…”

Interesting. “I meant Amy.”

“Oh.” He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and sank back into the swing-seat. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. It would be nice if…” He glanced at her sideways. “I would like it – a lot – if you liked her too.”

Rachel squeezed his hand again, drawing his eyes to her face. For an instant it was as if she could see him all at once; the baby, the boy and the man. “Joshua…” she sighed. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you, of everything you’ve achieved. It’s— You’ve exceeded all my expectations, anything I could ever have imagined for your life.”

He shook his head. “Mom…”

“No, I mean it,” she told him firmly. “You are doing good, your administration is making a difference and—”

“You know I’m not the actual President, right?”

She smiled at that, at his impish grin. “My point,” she continued, “is that you have made me – and your father – so proud. So proud, Josh. But…” She took his hand in both her own. “But I never wished any of this for you. I only ever had one hope for you, from the moment they put you in my arms I only ever had one hope for you.” He looked concerned and she smiled to reassure him. “I hoped you’d be happy, Josh. That’s all, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. And if Amy— If she makes you happy, if she’s the one who’s going to make you happy, then I’ll love her with all my heart. All my heart.”

Josh obviously didn’t know what to say; he’d inherited his father’s emotional uncertainty, but Rachel knew her son. She could see the gratitude in his eyes and reached out to hug him tight. 

“Thank you,” he murmured at last, squeezing her gently. 

When they separated she stood up and smoothed down her dress. In the distance she could hear a car pull into her street and guessed it would be Donna returning. She kissed her son on the forehead, holding his face in her hands. “You owe her a lot, Josh. Don’t take her for granted.”

He frowned. “Amy?”

“Donna.”

And suddenly he was wary. “I don’t,” he said uneasily. “I don’t take her for granted.”

Rachel smiled, but didn’t answer. Bright headlights flashed across them and a car turned into the driveway. Josh was instantly on his feet, looking as unsure as she’d ever seen him. Whether he knew it or not, he had a decision before him. Rachel just hoped he made the right choice.

 

As she climbed out of the car, Donna saw Rachel slip back inside the house and leave Josh standing alone on the porch. She couldn’t see his features in the dim light, but she could tell he was edgy when he ran down the stairs and took a couple of steps toward her. “Hey,” he said, his tone halfway between a laugh and something more serious. “You made it back alive then.”

Donna pocketed her keys. “Were you waiting up for me?” 

She could see him better now and caught his self-conscious smile. “No.” 

Damn him. Damn him for being so cute about it! Here she was, wanting to stay mad, and he was just standing there with that half-smile and that quiet, sexy voice… Not that she’d let him know any of that. Instead she fixed him with an arch look and he flung his arms up in instant capitulation. “Okay, yeah. I was waiting up for you. And you know what? I don’t care if I’m being patronizing, I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

Patronizing? It was Donna’s turn to smile as she breezed past him and up the steps. “I don’t think it’s patronizing.” She stopped at the top and turned around. “I think it’s sweet. Thank you.”

For a moment he looked genuinely flummoxed. It wasn’t something she often achieved, but his goldfish impersonation was always worth the effort. She cocked her head when it seemed like he’d turned to stone. “Josh?”

Shaking himself, he trotted after her. “Yeah, okay. Good.”

They both stopped outside the front door and Donna found herself reluctant to go inside. She glanced at Josh and hesitated. It was getting late, no doubt Amy was chomping at the bit, but it was nice out in the semi-darkness. It was quiet, the air was warm, cicadas were chirruping and… She sighed at herself, at her own weakness. The fact that Josh was outside, and that he’d waited up for her, was by far the biggest attraction. She was about to force herself to open the door anyway when he nodded toward an old swing-seat further down the porch. “Sit for a bit?”

Her arm didn’t need any twisting, her heart was doing quite enough of that. So she followed him toward the swing and sat down next to him, rocking gently. He looked at her once, then he leaned back and stared up at the stars and was silent.

Josh was rarely silent. When he was it was usually for one of two reasons. Either he was working hard and lost in the minutia of some unfathomable report. Or he was turning something over and over in his mind. Brooding. This silence was definitely the latter, and Donna suspected it had everything to do with the file she’d brought down and his conversation with Leo. 

With nothing to say herself that was worth hearing, Donna let her own head sink back and followed his gaze up toward the stars. He rocked the swing slowly, its soft creak comforting, and Donna glanced again at the worn wood and wondered if Rachel had brought it from their old home in New Hampshire.

“I used to sit on this with my Dad,” Josh said quietly.

“I was just wondering that.”

He smiled. “We’d read the Sunday papers together, when I was a kid.”

Donna chuckled. “Yeah, I can imagine you ranting at the Post when you were five years old.”

“I think I read the comics.”

It was a charming, bitter-sweet image. “It was nice your mom kept it.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, still staring up at the stars. “Donna… Did you ever wish you hadn’t found out about the President’s MS?”

His question surprised her, and she felt a little thread of adrenalin racing up her spine. “No,” she replied honestly. “I just wished we’d known from the start.”

Josh nodded slowly. “You wish he hadn’t lied?”

“I wish he hadn’t felt he needed to.”

“Did it make you think less of him?”

“No.”

He looked at her then, his eyes dark in the muted light from the kitchen. For once she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “If I knew something…” he said, very quietly. “If I wanted to tell you something that might make you think less of him, would you want to know?”

Donna’s stomach rolled over. “Josh, you can’t. Leo said no one could know what was in that file except you and—”

“And you,” he interrupted. “He said I could tell you.”

She just stared. “Why?”

“Because he knew I’d want to talk it over before the meeting. And he trusts you. He trusts you as much as I do.”

Donna’s wide smile was as irrepressible as the warmth that spread through her whole body. “That’s… That’s very flattering.” Sitting up, she turned to face him, pulling herself into business mode. “Josh, if you need me to do anything…”

But he waved her away. “No. Not now, it’s late and—” He didn’t finish his thought. Instead he frowned and sat up. “I should go to bed before Amy gets even madder.”

Her name felt like a splash of cold water, but Donna kept it hidden. Forcing a smile she said, “Another night on the couch looms, huh?” 

He laughed, but didn’t sound amused. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well…” Donna got to her feet and headed toward the door. “Thanks for waiting up.”

“No problem.”

She turned back, offering him a small smile. “Night then.”

“Night.”

Her hand was on the door when he stopped her again. “Donna?”

“Yeah?”

“That thing I said? It was stupid and I’m sorry.”

With a sigh she turned and leaned against the door instead of opening it. “I wish…” Her voice went suddenly husky and she had to clear her throat before she carried on. “In future, please don’t discuss my life with Amy. Or anyone else.”

He stared for a moment, then jumped up and took two quick steps toward her. “I didn’t. I swear. Amy doesn’t know about Calley.” He frowned and glared at his toes for a moment, then back at her face. “Is that what you think? You know I wouldn’t tell anyone about that.”

“But she said something about—”

“Short Republicans. I know. It was a joke. I— I think I made a joke about you preferring short Republicans once.”

Damn him! How could the man go from making her feel on top of the world to as small as a worm in five seconds flat? It was a goddamn gift. Or her own personal curse. “You were laughing at me?” 

“I wasn’t.” He was standing right in front of her now, close enough that she could look into his eyes. “I promise, I was…” He laughed, looked away, and began to squirm. “I think I was talking about myself.”

“You prefer short Republicans?”

He laughed nervously. “No. But… Okay, okay. This is just… this is just Amy, okay, so don’t pay too much attention.” He looked at her, then away, then back at her again. “When we first started hanging out, she was…” He laughed again. “She kept asking me why – you’ll think this is ridiculous – why I hadn’t— Why you and I hadn’t, you know… Why we weren’t dating.”

Donna stared. “Amy asked why you and I weren’t dating?”

“I know!” he agreed, flinging out his arms for emphasis. “And so I said ‘because she prefers short Republicans.’”

“Oh.” She was still staring. ‘Because she prefers short Republicans?’ That was the reason? That was the only reason he gave?

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So, that’s all that was. I haven’t told her about you and Calley, I never would.”

“Okay,” Donna nodded, still trying to process exactly what he’d said and if it meant anything. “Sorry I doubted you, but I was hurt...”

“I know. I’m really sorry.”

“Okay.” He was still looking at her, and she found herself gazing back. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, didn’t understand the intensity she saw there. At last, all she could think of to say was, “I should go to bed now.”

His voice was low. “Yeah.”

With effort she pulled her gaze away from his and pushed open the door. But then she paused, and after a moment said, “I don’t, by the way.”

“Don’t what?”

She offered him a barely-there smile. “Prefer short Republicans.”

And with that parting thought she stepped inside and let the door close on his open-mouthed astonishment. 

 

The sun rose into a pale blue sky, casting a golden light over the morning. For all he complained about the alarm, Josh had always been a morning person. He liked to watch the sunrise, which was probably a good thing as he frequently got to witness the event – whether he wanted to or not.

Today he moved around the bedroom quietly, trying not to disturb Amy. She slept with one arm flung above her head, and her hair a dark tangle covering her eyes. He let her sleep and told himself it was because she needed to rest, and not because he was putting off the inevitable argument about his decision to wait up for Donna.

Donna…

He tried not to think about her too much either. The whole thing with her hair was becoming distinctly confusing, and Josh didn’t like to be confused. It was one of the main reasons why he tended to avoid any entangling alliances with women – they almost always left him feeling confused and on the back foot. Amy was a case in point, but he felt he had at least a fighting chance of understanding her. His mom had been right; Amy was like himself. He knew what drove her because they were the same things that drove him.

And she loved him. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and paused, watching her sleep. She’d said she loved him. Well, ‘might love him’ which was just her way of keeping her options open. He’d known she’d say it eventually, but what was odd – what struck him as odd as he stood there in the semi-dark bedroom watching her – was that he’d expected the moment to be bigger. He’d expected there to be thunderbolts and swelling music when she’d at last said those words. Instead, they’d come in the middle of an argument and had fallen flat. It left him feeling… something. Disappointed? 

He didn’t want to go there either. So he slipped quietly out of the bedroom and went in search of coffee and the paper. He was the first one up, and the kitchen was quiet and cool. He set the coffee going and gazed out at the morning, listening to the quiet murmur of the percolator. It was only then that he noticed someone in the pool, hardly making a splash as they cut smoothly through the water. For a moment he clung to the hope that it was his mom, but of course it wasn’t. It was Donna, the one person he’d been trying not to think about. He should have guessed she’d be awake before him, she always was. 

Deliberately turning away from the window he pulled open the refrigerator in search of something to eat. He had more important things to think about than Donna and the way she’d looked in that black swimsuit yesterday, or her cryptic line about not preferring short Republicans. He had matters of state to occupy his mind, even if he’d rather not think about those either. The meeting with Senator Hammond would be challenging, to say the least, and he needed to get his thoughts straight. What he really needed was to talk about it, and he nearly had last night. He’d nearly told Donna, but at the last minute he’d baulked. Truth was, he wished he didn’t know and felt guilty burdening Donna with it just to provide himself with a sounding board. Not that she’d mind, but still…

He grabbed a packet of cinnamon-raisin bagels from the fridge, split one in half and wedged it into the toaster. His brain was craving coffee, the percolator had stopped sputtering so he found a mug and filled it to the brim. It was only when the mug was halfway to his mouth that he realised he was back in front of the window, and by then it was too late. Donna was climbing out of the pool.

The mug froze mid-air. Josh couldn’t move as he watched her climb the short set of stairs out of the water and stand there in front of him with her face raised to the warm morning sun. Her wet hair was dark and hung straight down her back as she paused for a moment before reaching for her towel that lay on a nearby sun bed. She dried her face, rubbed the towel over her hair, and when she pulled it away her gaze caught his through the window. Caught him staring.

Donna stopped, but didn’t look upset or surprised, and then she smiled and raised her hand in a ‘good morning’. Josh offered her a brief salute with his coffee mug, hoping he looked casual and relaxed and that his racing pulse was well hidden. Donna’s smile broadened and he found himself grinning back; he was helpless against that smile. A strange hiccupping sensation started in his chest and he felt a tug – an irresistible urge – to go join her by the edge of the pool. He was already moving when someone behind him spoke.

“Donna’s up early.”

He jumped, sloshing scalding coffee over his fingers and almost dropping the mug. “Crap!” It was Amy. 

“Lost in thought, Josh?” She joined him at the counter and poured herself a coffee. Her gaze drifted out to the pool, but Donna was gone. 

“Trying to get my head together for the meeting,” he said, shaking the coffee from his fingers.

“Right.” She sighed, and he glanced over.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Amy?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering what I’m going to talk you your mom about all day.”

“As long as it’s not me…”

“Yeah, because you’re so fascinating.”

He sighed, but didn’t answer. Sometimes Amy made things so difficult. Fortunately the silence that might have grown tense was broken when his mom strolled in. Everyone was up early, it seemed.

“I see Donna’s been making the most of the sunshine,” his mother said, helping herself to coffee. “They’re forecasting rain this afternoon.”

“That figures.” Amy said it under her breath, but Josh heard her anyway.

“Donna was always awake early,” his mom carried on. “I remember that from the hospital. She was always there before I arrived.”

“The hospital?” Amy’s words collided with the noise of the toaster popping up with Josh’s half-burned bagel. 

“After the shooting,” Josh said. The bagel – too big for the toaster – had wedged itself inside. He grabbed a fork and began trying to pry it out. 

“I’m convinced she didn’t go home the whole time you were in the ICU,” his mom said, walking over and taking the fork from his hands. “Where, by the way, you’ll be again if you keep poking a metal fork into the toaster without turning off the power.”

“You have a non-metal fork?” His mom cut him a sharp look, and he more quietly added, “I don’t remember that, about Donna.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said, deftly forcing the charred bagel out of the toaster with the handle of a wooden spoon. “They kept you pretty heavily sedated.” Then she smiled at Amy. “Probably for their own sanity.” His mom was making an effort to include her, Josh realised. He appreciated it. 

But although Amy returned the smile, it wasn’t with much enthusiasm. After a moment she said, “I can’t imagine Gillian sitting by my bedside if ever got shot. I hope you paid her overtime.”

Not sure how to answer Amy, Josh opted for silence. The odd thing was, he could totally imagine Donna sitting by his bedside. He could even imagine the look on her face, that wide-eyed look of total shock, disbelief and grief. It wasn’t his ego talking – for once – it was just that he knew Donna; if a dog got run over she’d have the same face. 

His mother, of course, had no problem speaking her mind. “Overtime!” she laughed. “Good heavens, Josh must owe her about a year’s worth, all the time she spent in his apartment while he was convalescing.”

“Recovering,” Josh corrected. Convalescing sounded so nineteenth-century. “And don’t worry, I’ve given her the occasional Saturday off to compensate.”

“She stayed in your apartment?” Even Amy’s considerable machiavellian skills couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “I didn’t realise Donna nursed you back to health, J. How sweet.”

“Nursed?” He felt the need to cover, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he was covering. “More like nagged me back to health. I think I got better just so she’d move back home.”

“Josh!” his mom scolded. “How can you—”

“It’s okay,” Donna said from the doorway, “he spent three months telling me the same thing. I’m impervious.”

Josh looked over and there she was, immaculate in her suit. Her hair was up, which was a relief – the last thing he needed today was to be distracted by the hair-thing. She looked great, though. As always.

“My you look nice,” his mom enthused. 

“Really?” Donna looked genuinely surprised by the compliment, which made Josh smile. “Thanks.”

“Now have some breakfast before you go. Josh has managed to do nothing but make coffee and burn a bagel, but I have some muffins, fruit, yoghurt – oh, and fixings for pancakes, but you probably don’t have time.”

“A muffin would be great, thank you,” Donna said, and then glancing over at Josh added, “We’re leaving in an hour.”

“I know,” he assured her, taking another sip of coffee.

“I’m just saying, because I notice you’re not dressed.”

“It doesn’t take me an hour to get dressed.”

“I also notice you haven’t had a shower, or shaved…”

“Again, doesn’t take an hour.”

She looked at him, and then turned away with a little shrug. “Okay, but I’m leaving in an hour and if you’re not in the car I’ll just have to tell the Senator that you missed your ride.”

“She’s got a point, J,” Amy said suddenly, her arm sliding around his waist and tugging him closer. “We should probably both take a shower.”

He glanced down and was captivated by the light in her dark eyes. Desire, jealousy or rivalry, he wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was it burned with a heat that sparked a fire of his own. “Yeah,” he said, smiling slightly, “I guess you have a point.” He glanced up, to see how Donna was taking his latest victory in their on-going battle of wills, but she was busily opening a bag of muffins and didn’t look at him. The only part of her face he could see was her cheek, and it was flushed pink. He usually got double points for managing to embarrass Donna, but somehow his victory fell flat today.

“Don’t be long,” his mom said abruptly, her tone just bordering on disapproving. “I want to talk to you, before you head out.”

Uh-oh. With a final glance at Donna, who was still ignoring him, Josh headed up to the bathroom. Amy came with him, locked to his side, and for the first time since he’d been seeing her he wished she’d just back off.

 

Donna had an almost irresistible urge to slam a CD into the player and turn the volume up. Loud! If she heard one thing – one damn thing – from the bathroom upstairs she was out the door. We should probably both take a shower…She’d made it a point of principle not to envy Amy, not to act like the lovelorn assistant, and she thought she’d done a good job. She was always polite, always passed on messages – God help her, she’d even gone along with the stupid Tahiti thing. So why the hell did Amy Gardner have to act like such a bi—

“I think that was a little uncalled for,” Rachel said stiffly, popping a tray of muffins into the oven to warm.

In this case, Donna decided feigning ignorance was the best policy. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Rachel said, “I’m a liberal woman. And goodness knows, Josh is old enough to have a wife and children of his own by now, but there are some things… Well,” she smiled, “it’s not your concern, Donna.”

And thank the Lord for that. “No,” she agreed. “I try and stay as far away from it as possible.”

Rachel moved to the kitchen table, pulling out plates and cups from the nearby dresser. “Still, I wish— I hope you know that he appreciates everything you did for him after Rosslyn.”

“I know. I get Josh, Rachel.”

“Yes,” she agreed, pausing with a small pile of plates in her hand. “You know, for a while after that I hoped that maybe you two might—”

“No,” Donna felt herself blush again. She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound embarrassed, “I’m not really his type. And he’s my boss, and—”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel hurriedly interrupted. “It was rude of me to ask. It’s just that Josh’s taste in women is usually—” Rachel stopped herself again, shaking her head with an embarrassed laugh of her own. “Perhaps we should change the subject?”

“Good idea,” Donna agreed. “So, I hear it’s going to rain later?”

They chatted about this, that and everything in-between while the muffins warmed, the aroma mingling tantalizingly with the coffee. Donna was just making a mental note to buy muffins, for those rare occasions when she actually had time to eat before she left home, when Josh came racing into the kitchen, skidded to a stop and almost landed on his ass. He had his suit on, although his tie was askew and his hair was still damp. “Twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds!” he panted, studying his watch. “Hah!”

From across the kitchen table Donna stared, then cast a curious glance at Rachel who just rolled her eyes. 

“And you didn’t think I couldn’t do it that fast!” Josh triumphed. “What do you say now?”

“I hope to God you’re talking about how long it took you to get showered and changed, Josh.”

“Yeah, I—” His eyes went wide. “Donna!”

With a smile she popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth and resisted the urge to straighten his tie. The last thing she wanted was to give Rachel Lyman any more suspicions about the nature of her feelings, besides Amy was here. She could do it for him. 

“You should eat something before you go,” Rachel said, ushering him toward the table. “Breakfast is the—”

“—most important meal of the day. Yeah, I know.”

He pulled out the chair next to Donna’s, and was about to sit down when Rachel stopped him. “Oh, you’re wearing the tie!”

“Uh, yeah,” he agreed cautiously, flicking a ‘what’s she talking about?’ look at Donna. She mouthed ‘birthday gift’ in reply and his face lit up with understanding. “Yeah, it’s one of my favourites.”

“He wears it all the time,” Donna chimed in for good measure.

“It goes well with that shirt,” Rachel approved. “Now, eat some breakfast.”

 

Amy deliberately took her time coming back downstairs. Josh had been unnecessarily brusque when she’d tried to – put bluntly – seduce him, and she was pissed. Amy Gardner didn’t take rejection well, especially not from Josh. It felt too much like losing, and she hated to lose. Especially to Josh.

Unfortunately, when she did eventually saunter into the kitchen he was ensconced next to Donna at the table. They made quite the picture, him with his nose in the paper and her gazing thoughtfully out the window. Somehow they even managed to make the silence between them feel intimate. The real kicker was that neither of them seemed to notice, just like neither of them seemed to notice the way Donna was absently sharing Josh’s breakfast. But Amy noticed, and she had no doubt Mrs. L noticed too. Not much got past that old bird, and as Amy walked into the kitchen it was Rachel’s eyes that first fixed on her. 

“Would you like some coffee, Amy?” Rachel rose politely from the table and Josh looked up when he realised she was there.

“Hey,” he said, with an apology in his eyes. “Nice shower?”

This was how it was with them. They had sex, they fought, they never quite talked about it, and then they usually ended up in bed again. The sex, she had to admit, was pretty damn good. It made up for a lot.

She didn’t answer his question, and instead turned her attention to Rachel. “Coffee would be great,” she said, and sat down opposite Josh just as Donna rose to her feet. Amy doubted it was coincidence. Josh might be blind to it, but Amy knew exactly how Donna felt about him. She had to give Donna credit though, she was always the consummate professional and had never once tried to get between her and Josh. In the same position, Amy knew she’d have been less honourable. 

“We should leave in ten minutes, Josh,” Donna said as she carried her plate and cup over to the dishwasher. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

He just nodded, his attention returning to the newspaper. It was telling, Amy knew, that he was oblivious to the bizarre intimacy they shared. Sometimes she wondered if it was a product of the utterly platonic nature of their relationship; like a couple married for forty years who hadn’t had sex for a decade – and didn’t want to, either. But Amy had never been one for wishful thinking, and mostly she wondered what would happen if Josh ever opened his eyes enough to realise that his assistant’s loyalty was more personal than professional. Would he run a mile, or marry her on the spot? Truth was, she had no idea. And that bothered her. She liked Josh, she liked him a lot, and it bugged her that she didn’t understand him better. Donna was an open book, but Josh was a complicated man and she suspected that he was as confused as herself regarding his feelings for Donna Moss.

The only thing to do, Amy concluded, was to keep his eyes so firmly fixed on her that he didn’t have time to notice anything – or anyone – else. To that end she slipped one foot out of her strappy sandal and ran it up the inside of his leg.

He started, and then put down the paper and grinned at her.

“Hurry back,” she murmured.

“I will.” His eyes had taken on that predatory look she adored. 

“We should go out tonight,” she suggested. “Alone.”

Her foot rose a little higher and he cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Out?” There was a slight squeak in his voice, and she knew she was winning.

“I hear the beach is dark.”

His grin turned at once disbelieving, intrigued, and panicky. “Amy…”

“Just get back early. We’ll have some fun.”

He cleared his throat again, just as his mother turned up with the coffee. Josh abruptly turned sideways, moving his leg out of Amy’s reach, and started folding the newspaper. 

“Josh!” Rachel exclaimed, staring down at him.

“What?” He sounded guilty, which made Amy smirk and wonder what she’d started.

“The shoes,” Rachel smiled.

The shoes?

Josh stared down at his feet, and then after a moment let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah. These are the ones you bought me.”

Rachel laughed too. “You get some soul grips for them?”

“Yeah. Well, Donna did.”

Rachel shook her head and patted his shoulder. “The tie and the shoes? Donna has a good memory.”

Josh smiled, and Amy didn’t miss the affection in it. “We call her the Trivia Queen.”

“Well,” Rachel agreed, casting a quick – almost apologetic – glance at Amy, “it’s nice to see you wearing them.” 

“Five minutes!” Donna’s disembodied voice drifted from the hall, and Josh replied as if it was His Master’s Voice. He stood up and straightened his jacket, throwing the paper down on the table. That’s how it always was with Donna, Amy thought. Her influence was all pervasive.

“Now, I’ve packed you some things for the trip,” Rachel was saying, and puttered over toward the kitchen counter. “I’ll just give them to Donna…”

Josh sighed and glanced toward Amy with an embarrassed roll of his eyes. “She still thinks I’m nine years old.”

It was time to fight back. He might be spending the day with Donna, but Amy planned on keeping herself firmly in his mind until the night rolled around. Rocking back in her chair, she gave him a look he couldn’t misinterpret. “I’m glad you’re not nine years old.”

Josh smiled uncertainly, torn between discomfort and desire, which amused her. She loved to see him off-balance. Kicking off her remaining shoe, she rose slowly and slunk around the table, moving right into his space. To his credit, he didn’t back away as she pressed herself against him and ran a finger through the hair behind his ear. But he was breathing faster, and the predatory look was back. She all-but licked her lips as she murmured, “You know, I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, the fact that your mother still buys you shoes, or the fact that Donna knows which ones they are.”

He didn’t answer, but the tenor of his gaze shifted and cooled. His lips pressed together, and Amy cursed herself for making such a schoolgirl error. “It’s just Mom and me now,” he said quietly. “It makes her happy.”

Chagrined, and hating the feeling, Amy turned away. She was hoping he’d reach for her, but then Donna was in the doorway calling for him again and before she knew it he was leaving. Amy trailed after Rachel to the front door, but Josh had already slipped his sunglasses on and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he lifted a hand to wave and climbed into the rental car next to Donna. 

It was ridiculous, but as Amy watched the car pull out of the driveway she was as jealous as hell of Donna Moss. And that had never been in the plan.


	4. What Must Not Be Said

A huge wave of relief rolled over Donna as Josh put his foot down and sped away from his mother’s house. She felt like she could breathe for the first time since she’d stepped off the plane, and sank back in the passenger seat with a sigh. Free! Free from Amy and her cleavage (on prominent display this morning, Donna had noticed), free from Rachel’s suspicions, and free from feeling like the world’s biggest third wheel. By seven o’clock this evening she’d be on her way home, and Josh and Amy could get back to doing whatever it was she’d interrupted. And the less she knew about that, the better.

“That was nice,” Josh said suddenly, breaking the easy silence that had fallen between them. 

“What was?”

“The tie and the shoes,” he said. “Mom appreciated it.”

“I thought she might.” Donna glanced over her shoulder at then Tupperware box Rachel had handed her before they left. “We have enough cookies to hold a bake sale.”

Josh laughed softly. “Mom doesn’t think you can drive more than twenty-minutes without needing emergency rations.”

“It’s sweet,” Donna told him. “Your mom’s great.” After a moment, she added, “You need to make a left here, to get over to I95.”

“Nah, that’ll take forever.” Blithely, he ignored the turning. “I’m going to head south to the Pineda Causeway.”

Here we go again… “Josh, the instructions from Autoroute say—”

“I know how to get to I95!” he protested. “This is faster.”

“Yeah,” Donna grumbled, “because you’re such a Florida native.”

“It’s a male thing,” he explained settling back in his seat and searching for something on the steering column. The eject button, if she was lucky. “We just have a better sense of direction.”

“Oh my God…”

“What? It’s a genetic fact.” He glanced at her, but she couldn’t see anything through his sunglasses. “You don’t think it’s true?”

“I think we’ll end up in Cuba.”

“Donna…” He was smiling now. “You do know there’s ocean between here and Havana, right?”

Ignoring him, she stared out the window. “I printed directions from Autoroute.”

“Autoroute’s for girls!”

“Cuba!”

He just smiled, but said no more. And, to her irritation, they pretty soon found themselves on I95. And heading in the right direction. She was expecting him to crow, but instead he just threw her a grin which faded fast and after a moment he sighed and said, “I need to talk to you.”

“About the file?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I just need to… Whatever you think of this, Donna, you can’t tell anyone. Okay?”

“I know.”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, arms braced straight against the steering wheel as he said, “A few months ago the President ordered a political assassination.”

She’d been expecting some kind of scandal, maybe something to do with the President’s MS, but this? “An assassination? You mean poison-tipped umbrellas?”

“I mean an entire aircraft disappearing in the Bermuda triangle.”

“You’re kidding!” He was yanking her chain. “You got this off the internet, Josh. I’m not going to—”

“It’s true.” And from the deadly serious look on his face, she believed him.

After a long silence she quietly said, “Who?”

“Abdul Shareef.”

“From Qumar?”

“Yeah.” He sighed and looked at her again. “He had connections with the Bahji. He’d plotted to blow up the Golden Gate bridge.”

“Oh my God…” 

“Yeah, but still…assassination?” Josh shook his head. “That’s not— That’s not what we are, it shouldn’t be what we are. We should be better than that.”

“You think we should have let him blow up the Golden Gate Bridge?”

“No,” he sighed, “of course not. But assassination, Donna? That’s… I don’t know, it feels so wrong.”

For all his ruthless politicking, what she’d first loved about Josh was his idealism. It was a strange combination. Most men in his job would have been the pit bulls they appeared to be, but not Josh. He wanted Camelot and was always heartbroken when reality fell short. Sometimes Donna thought that’s why he kept her around – to reassure him that it was okay to occasionally fall from grace. “I bet other countries do it all the time,” she said.

“Other countries torture people, stone women to death for adultery, and drown children possessed by evil spirits,” he countered. “You saying we should do all that too?”

“No, but if—”

“We used to be a beacon on the hill, Donna! The shining light, leading the way for the world. Now look at us, down in the mud with everyone else.”

“You’re saying we should just let people come here and attack us?”

“I’m saying there are laws. There are better ways, there are—”

“Josh.” She turned in her seat to look at him properly, but his eyes were still fixed on the road. “Seriously, in your heart of hearts, don’t you think that, if there’d been another way, the President would have found it?”

He didn’t answer, but one hand clenched into a fist and beat softly against the steering wheel. 

“Think about this,” she added. “What if his next target was the Metro? What if—” She stopped. “What if Amy was on the train when it happened? Or Leo? Or Sam? Or CJ? Or—”

“You?” He looked at her for a long moment from behind his sunglasses, then stared back out at the road. “You can’t make decisions based on those kinds of feelings.”

“Can’t you?”

“There are international laws protecting—”

“And the President is protecting his people! Are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same? If someone you cared about was in danger, you wouldn’t do anything in case it broke an international—”

“That’s the point!” he protested. “The President has to consider the bigger picture, he can’t think on an individual basis. He can’t—”

“He can’t think like a human being?”

“No, he can’t! There are more important issues at stake.”

“More important than my life? You’re saying—” 

“Look, if we abandon international law then we lose its protection. If we say it’s okay for us to assassinate foreign officials, then it’s okay for anyone to do it. What’s to stop the Qumaris taking a pot-shot at Air Force One next time it’s in their air space? Or any other country who’s pissed off with us, come to that.”

And as much as she loved Josh’s idealism, there were times when the atmosphere up in his ivory tower got a little too thin. “So, basically, what you’re saying is that, if Mr. Terrorist put a gun to my head, you’d tell him to go ahead and shoot, for the sake of preserving an international law that no one obeys anyway?”

His jaw clenched, and in a tight voice he said, “If anyone put a gun to your head I’d beat them to death with my bare hands. But that’s not the point.”

“Your bare hands?” She couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve been practicing karate?”

“The point,” he said, a little less heatedly, “is that if anyone tried to hurt you, I’d want to kill them. Of course I would. But that’s the mentality of the mob. We live by the rule of law. We give up the right to dispense justice ourselves, for the sake of living in a functioning society. Same is true on the international stage. If we start behaving like Wild Bill Hickok, then we’d better expect to live in the Wild West.”

Donna let the silence ride for a moment, then said, “You’d look cute in a cowboy hat.”

It earned her half a smile. “Maybe I should wear one to this meeting. I might look more convincing.”

“You’re convincing,” she assured him, turning back around in her seat and gazing out at the road. “You could sell a blind woman sunglasses, Josh.” Talking of which, she took off her own – a bank of rain clouds was swallowing the sunshine. Looked like Rachel’s forecast was right. 

Next to her, Josh shifted restlessly. “You make me sound like a snake oil salesman.”

“If the cowboy hat fits…”

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy your moral support?”

She turned her head and caught him looking at her. His sunglasses were gone too, and she saw the real disquiet in his eyes. Despite everything, it made her want to reach out to him – to offer him something. “You’re the go-to guy, Josh. That’s why Leo’s given you this. He knows you’ll get the job done. It’s what you do.”

“Smoothing over the illegal acts of the administration? That’s not what I signed up for.”

“The President probably saved hundreds of lives, Josh. Thousands, who knows?”

“Yeah, but at what cost? At what cost to the legitimacy of international law?”

She shrugged and looked back out at the road. “I’ll take a thousand families still in one piece over the legitimacy of international law.”

“Realpolitik,” he said with a resigned sigh.

Donna didn’t answer, she figured he’d already gotten where he needed to be. Instead, she reached into the back seat and grabbed the Tupperwear box. “Chocolate-chip or oatmeal?”

It was as good a way as any to draw a line under the conversation. And as they munched and talked about the consequential and inconsequential, Donna found herself having more fun than was strictly appropriate. But she couldn’t help it; she just loved talking to Josh, and it was rare that she got more than ten minutes of his time. Especially these days. Two hours felt like luxury. Even so, they were pulling up outside Senator Hammond’s huge mansion all too soon and she couldn’t repress a small sigh.

Still, she figured as they stepped out of the car, there was still the journey home to enjoy…

 

Amy was bored. It was two in the afternoon and she was lying on her bed, bored. The rain had started shortly after noon and she watched it rattle against the windows, streaming down in rivulets that seemed like bars, trapping her in the house with Rachel. 

Not that she didn’t like the woman, it was just… There was an atmosphere, a patina of disapproval that seemed to coat everything. Their conversations were stilted, neither of them really knowing where they stood. Was she here as the future daughter-in-law or the passing interest? Amy didn’t know, she didn’t even know which of those she wanted to be. Neither, perhaps. She wasn’t exactly the wife-and-mother kind. She’d rather be the cool aunt, who made balloon animals and fed the kids too much chocolate, than the frumpy mom with bad hair, no make-up and a stomach that sagged in all the wrong places.

Some might consider her shallow, but she didn’t care. She was shaping the future – for everyone, not just two or three sticky-mouthed, snotty-nosed kids. She figured she was paying her dues to society, and having a hell of a lot more fun doing it too.

But Josh… Obviously the future wasn’t something they ever discussed. In their world the future was the next meeting, the next deal. They both understood that. But she’d picked up a vibe from him sometimes, an almost subliminal yearning for something more. Perhaps it was the echo of her own biological clock, or perhaps it was his, but she’d sensed something in the way he was tenaciously pursuing this relationship. Not quite a desperation, more of a determination. A determination to make it work, a determination to shape it into something significant.

And she liked that. She liked his tenacity, that she was the object of his desire. She liked that he wanted her. Really wanted her, the way he wanted to close a deal or bring in the winning vote. She liked that he focused all that incredible energy on her, on catching her and keeping her. It gave her a buzz. Truth be told, it was an incredible turn on to be pursued – hunted – with that kind of intensity. But she was no easy prey; as soon as he got too close, she’d slip away and leave him hungry. It was a game, and they both got off on the thrill of the chase.

And for all the homespun charms of Donna Moss, Amy knew that Josh would never settle for someone so…uncomplicated. Where was the thrill if there was no chase? Donna’s doe-eyed adoration, however well she disguised it as irritation, wasn’t enough to hold his interest. He needed a sparing partner, not a doormat. Although, Amy thought with a smile, there was something exciting about having a man that other women wanted. 

She stretched out on the bed she’d shared with him and wondered if Donna thought about them together. Did it make her sick with envy? Did she fantasise about sharing his bed? How much did she want what Amy had? It was a childish triumph, she supposed, but she couldn’t help enjoying it. Donna might swamp his professional life, but she’d never tasted this part of him. She would never taste this part of him. 

Amy rolled onto her stomach and stared about the room, still bored. Her eyes fell on the crumpled clothes that Josh had thrown into the corner, haphazardly piled on top of his laptop. His laptop… She should have thought to bring her own, but of course this weekend was meant to involve getting away from work. Should have known Josh couldn’t leave his behind. His laptop and his cell phone were like his security blankets, he never went anywhere without them.

Still, she could at least access her email from the web if she borrowed his computer. And if she didn’t do something she was likely to go stir-crazy. Without stopping to feel a moment’s unease she dragged Josh’s laptop out from under his clothes, hopped back onto the bed, legs crossed, and unzipped the case. It took a moment to boot up, and she rummaged in the pockets for phone connections and power cables. 

The power cable was tangled – was it beyond the man to coil it when he put it away? – and she reached down to plug it in. She couldn’t find the phone cable right away, though. It wasn’t in the outside pocket, and she slid her hand into the slim inner pocket. She came out with a handful of wires and papers – crumpled, folded and discarded. Dumping them on the bed so she could sort out the phone cable, Amy realised that some of the papers were actually photographs. Toby Ziegler was staring out at her through a haze of tobacco smoke with a frown etched into his brow. Curiously, she picked up the photograph and turned it over. On the back someone – not Josh – had written, ‘March, Manchester, NH.’ From the campaign, she guessed. Another one showed CJ Cregg, with horribly permed hair, dancing outrageously with Josh. Both were laughing, and probably drunk. She turned it over, and saw Josh’s seismographic scrawl – ‘Square dancing, N. Carolina’. Amy smiled and flipped the photo back over to study Josh. He looked younger, even though it could only have been four years ago. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him laugh like that, without inhibition. Even when he was drunk. The weight of his responsibilities, she supposed. 

Shuffling through the rest of the pictures, she was mildly surprised not to find one of the ever-present Donna. It made her smile, just a little, and she refused to name the emotion relief. That would imply that she felt threatened, and she’d just spent half an hour persuading herself that the morning’s attack of jealousy was ridiculous. Dropping the pictures back onto the bed, Amy continued to rummage through the rest of the papers. Among the old boarding cards and hotel receipts she saw a tatty piece of paper covered in Josh’s writing, and picked it up. At first glance it seemed to be some kind of campaign brainstorm because he’d written ‘Cons’ at the top of the page, and beneath it a short list:

Impact on MS disclosure – more scandal?

Distract attention from campaign issues – we become the story

Need to find new PA

Joey Lucas is probably wrong

Potential humiliation and need to leave country

Amy stared at the cryptic list for a moment, until a hollow sensation began to open up in the pit of her stomach. Need to find a new PA? She found herself chewing at her lower lip and deliberately stopped. Calmly, she looked down the page to where he’d written ‘Pros’. There was only one item listed, and it didn’t make much sense at all.

DM wouldn’t stop for red lights (what does that mean??)

Amy wished she could answer his scrawled question, although she had little doubt that DM stood for the ubiquitous Donna Moss. But what the hell did her driving have to do with anything? 

Suddenly not interested in her email, Amy flopped backward on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. She folded the piece of paper into quarters and tapped it thoughtfully against her thigh, wondering when he’d written it and why. Need to find a new PA. Potential humiliation and need to leave country. A suspicion was growing in the back of her mind, feeding on the long-term rumours that she’d heard all too often. But she refused to listen. Who knew when he’d written this list? Probably during the campaign. It meant nothing. Stuffing it into her pocket, she turned to glance at the clock on Josh’s nightstand and her eye was caught by the novel he’d brought to read. 

Josh never read novels. She guessed this was his concession to the ‘get away from it all’ atmosphere and she smiled at the sincerity of his effort. It looked like he’d read, maybe, one chapter because a dog-eared bookmark was sticking out just under the cover. She picked up the book and began to flick through the pages, causing the bookmark to fall out and land on her chest. Idly she picked it up, and then froze.

It was her. Them.

Taken at the gates of the White House, Josh stood with his arm firmly around Donna’s waist and his smiling mouth slightly open, as if he’d been caught in the middle of telling the world’s funniest joke. Donna was laughing and holding a Bartlet for America placard in one hand. With cold fingers, Amy turned the picture over and on the back Josh had simply written, ‘Us, arriving.’

Us.

Since when had they been an ‘us’? Jealousy, cold and hard as a knife, sliced up through her chest and she watched her fingers slowly ripping the photo in half. 

It was time to up the stakes. Amy Gardner didn’t lose, not to anybody, and certainly not to an under-educated secretary. Amy always won, whatever the cost. 

Whether he knew it or not, Josh was carrying around a photo of her rival and there was nothing Amy liked better than a little competition. But if Donna Moss thought she could sit quietly and wait for her boss to get bored of his new infatuation, then she thought wrong. Amy had weapons in her arsenal that she hadn’t even deployed yet, weapons that would keep Josh following her around like a lost puppy for as long as she wanted him. 

She smiled, letting the pieces of photo fall onto the bed, and settled her hands behind her head, beginning to strategise. It was, after all, what she did best.

Game on, Donna Moss. Game on.

 

Donna could see Josh through the glass panelled door that separated her from the lavish room in which Senator Hammond was taking the meeting. Josh was perched on the edge of a deep armchair, arms on knees and talking earnestly. The Senator’s face was inscrutable, lips pressed together in a thin line. From what she could tell from this distance, the meeting was going well. They’d been talking for almost an hour, and so far Josh hadn’t once jumped to his feet and started gesticulating. Donna took that as a good sign.

She was sitting outside, in the humid warmth of the afternoon, under a wide and leafy porch. Beyond, the senator’s estate spread out green and lush beneath an oppressively dark sky. The rain had started falling soon after they arrived and if she closed her eyes the sound of the torrential downpour reminded her of those tropical monsoons you only ever saw on TV. At least, if you lived in Wisconsin – or even DC – you only got to see them on TV. The air was rich with the scents of damp soil and vegetation, the fragrant musk of rainwater as it rattled through the leaves making something languid and sensual of the whole experience. The tall glass of iced tea in her hand helped the Southern Belle effect along nicely. If she opened her mouth to speak, Donna half expected to sound like Scarlet O’Hara.

From the other end of the porch, a figure appeared. Julia Hammond, immaculate in the heat as she swished past the potted plants and trailed her fingers over them as she did so. Mid-fifties, Donna guessed, and still beautiful. 

“Are they still talking?”

“It’s only been an hour,” Donna smiled. 

Julia sighed and took a seat opposite, arranging her long skirt carefully as she did so – as if she were sitting for a portrait, Donna thought. “There was a time when nobody worked on Sundays.”

“We’re sorry to disturb your weekend,” Donna said hurriedly. “Josh wouldn’t—”

Julia waved away her concerns. “I’ve been a political widow for thirty years, my dear. There’s nothing I haven’t seen.” Her eyes fixed suddenly on Donna, sharper than before. “Your Joshua is something though. He’s got quite a reputation.”

Donna sipped at her tea, feeling suddenly awkward. Your Joshua? “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

“Don’t I know it,” Julia smiled. “But mark my words, he’s worth sticking with. He’s what? Forty? He’ll take you places.”

“He already has,” she said quietly, smiling as she took another sip of tea.

Julia smiled, wryly Donna thought. For some reason that bothered her. “What do you know about his assistant?” Julia asked suddenly. “I heard he had a thing for her.”

Donna froze. “I—uh…”

“Oh, now, you’re going to have to get used to that!” Julia’s laugh was brittle. “If you’re going to marry into politics, you need to—”

Donna shot to her feet, scraping back her chair loudly. “I’m sorry, Mrs Hammond, you’ve misunderstood. Josh and I aren’t—” Helplessly, she glanced in his direction and found him staring back at her, curious and a touch concerned. She laughed awkwardly, “I am his assistant, Mrs Hammond. Donna Moss. And, for the record, our relationship has always been completely professional.” 

Julia stared in surprise, and for the first time Donna wondered if some of the woman’s brittleness didn’t come from a too much Southern Comfort. “I’m so sorry!” she said after a moment, the words tumbling out in a blur. “That was unforgivable. It’s just, when I saw you together—” 

“It’s okay,” Donna assured her, glancing once more at Josh and silently impeaching him to talk faster and end the meeting. 

“And you mentioned that you’d been staying with his mother…”

“It’s fine.” Reluctantly, Donna sat down again, but out of the corner of her eye she could sense Josh still watching her. 

“And, you should know, there are quite a few rumours…” Julia’s tone had turned speculative. “You should probably have your people do something about that.”

“Well, how about I start right now?” She tried to keep the edge from her voice, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “Josh is down here with his girlfriend, visiting his mom. I’m only here for this meeting because I had to bring him some papers, and I’m heading back home tonight.”

Julia smiled; it was a fragile expression, as if poised on the verge of tears. “You could do worse, you know.”

“He’s my boss, Mrs Hammond.”

“Is that all?” Her smile fractured, and just for a moment Donna saw pain behind her eyes. “Doesn’t usually stop them.”

There was a long silence, and Donna wasn’t sure where to look. Inside, Josh was still talking, but she could see from the way he’d edged even further forward in the chair that he was preparing to wrap up. Thank goodness! At her side, Julia was staring off into the rain, her expression distant. Donna followed her gaze, watched the rain drip from the leaves overhanging the porch, and was suddenly struck by the melancholy of the place. It felt large and empty, loveless.

“You want my real advice?” Julia ask suddenly, still staring straight ahead.

“Okay…”

“Run,” she said softly. “Run as far and as fast as you can. There’s no room for us here. This world is brutal, and it brutalizes them.”

Donna didn’t answer. She wanted to deny it, but all she could think about was Josh’s face when he’d secured the welfare bill – and lost Amy her job. He’d hated himself, but it hadn’t been enough to stop him. Brutal.

“All that matters,” Julia continued, “the only thing they care about is win—”

Behind them the sound of the glass door opening cut her off, and Julia turned in her seat with a smile. If Donna hadn’t known what to look for, she’d have missed the sadness in that smile; it was polished to perfection. “All finished?” Julia asked her husband. “Would you like a drink?”

Senator Hammond nodded and glanced out at the rain. He was a tall, broad man and seemed to tower over Josh. “Damn weather,” he growled. “I was meant to be playing golf this afternoon.” 

Josh held out his hand. “I won’t delay you any more, Senator. Thanks for your time, sir.”

“My pleasure,” Hammond replied. “And you can tell the President that I’ll be right behind him the next time he plans to take the fight to these bastards.”

Josh smiled, barely. “I’ll do that.” He cast a quick look at Donna, which she translated as ‘get me the hell outa here!’

“We should be going,” Donna said, on cue. And for good measure added, “Your girlfriend wants you back for dinner.”

Josh stared at her. “She…what?”

“Amy,” Donna clarified, picking up her case from beside her chair and not looking at Julia. “She called to, you know, hurry you along.”

“Amy called you?”

Donna flung a smile at the Senator. “We should be going.” And then, to Julia, “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Hammond.”

“You too, Donna Moss.” She didn’t say more, but Donna could feel her sad eyes watching her as she walked the length of the porch

After a moment Josh had caught up, walking so close their shoulders were bumping as he murmured, “Amy called?”

Donna shook her head. “No, I made that up.”

“Why?”

She glanced over at him, and the soft, curious expression in his eyes made her want to tell him – made her want to tell him everything, which was half the problem. “It doesn’t matter.” She came to a halt at the edge of the porch and stared through the rain at their car. 

Josh screwed up his face and glared. “Umbrella?”

She just sighed. 

 

Josh was wet. It seemed inconceivable that in the thirty seconds it took to run from the porch to the car he could get this wet, and yet his hair felt liked he’d just stepped out of the shower and the front of his shirt was soaked through to the skin. “So much for the Sunshine State,” he groused, awkwardly pulling off his soggy jacket in the confines of the car and throwing it onto the backseat.

Donna was combing her hands through her hair, pulling loose strands from her face and shaking off the water. It was quite dark, he noticed. When it was wet, her hair went quite dark, like in the pool this morning when— 

“What?” she said.

“What?”

Donna was frowning at him. “You were giving me a look.”

“I wasn’t, I was—” Josh cleared his throat, wiping his hands over his damp face and up into his hair. “Are there any more cookies? I’m starving.”

Donna quit fiddling with her hair and reached for her seatbelt. “I vote we stop for dinner. You owe me, remember?”

“I do?”

She glanced at him, her smile a little unsure. “Okay, you might claim not remember – you were sloshed at the time – but there were witnesses.”

Sloshed Lyman. He remembered…

Amy, dancing. You can fuck me, but you can’t talk to me?

And then Donna, coming to his rescue in the middle of the dance floor, her smile the brightest thing in the room and she didn’t look away, even when the smile turned into something else, something warmer and deeper, or when they drifted closer like two bodies in a declining orbit, or when his breathing grew short and shallow and stirred the edges of her hair and his nose brushed against hers and his lips— 

He turned the key in the ignition too hard and the transmission squealed in protest. “I remember,” he said, and his voice was horribly husky as he threw the car into gear and looped around Senator Hammond’s ostentatiously large driveway.

“I’m sure there’s a McDonalds around here somewhere,” Donna said, her tone light. He glanced over and saw her gazing out through the rain. 

“If you’re lucky I’ll spring for a Denny’s,” he offered, and saw her smile slightly. Did she remember that moment the way he did, or had the vodka blurred his memories? Had she really been melting into him, or had he just been a drunken boss taking advantage? He wanted to believe— 

His cell chirruped for attention and Donna reached into the backseat to pull it from the tangle of his jacket. She studied it for a moment and after a slight pause said, “Text from Amy.”

“Yeah? What’s she want?” There was another pause, and when he glanced over he saw Donna chewing her lower lip. “Donna?”

She snapped out of it and looked back down at the phone. “Ah… She says, ‘Missing my man. Bored, thinking of you and—’ Eww!” Donna shoved the phone toward him, hard, and he swerved a little on the gravel driveway has he grabbed for it. “What?”

“She knows that’s a work phone, right? Tax payer’s money.”

Josh glanced at the message – lewd, even by Amy’s standards – and felt himself blush. “Oh. Sorry. That’s—”

“Stop talking.”

“Yeah. Sorry, that’s—”

“You need to stop talking, Josh.”

He winced, threw the phone onto the backseat, and peered out through the rain. If possible, it seemed like it was falling harder now than when they’d made a dash for the car. As they reached the road, he slowed and peered both ways. He’d seen nothing much in the way of dinner on the way in, and he figured he owed Donna something a little better than Denny’s. Especially after Amy’s…indiscretion. “Let’s see what’s in town,” he suggested, taking a left. 

“You don’t want to hurry back?” Donna’s voice was probably the driest thing in the car. 

“I’m hungry.” It was the only answer he dared give. Partly because it was true, and partly because there was something crazy going on inside his head. Amy-the-sorceress seemed to be loosing her powers, because, rather than lighting a fire, her message had left him feeling strangely cold. Cold and empty. He didn’t want to race home and scratch her itch, instead he found himself craving something else. Something warmer, something deeper. Something—

And he really, really wanted to take Donna out for dinner. Where was the harm in that?

 

Miraculously, they managed to find a nice little unpretentious diner with a specials list as long as Donna’s arm. And almost all of it seafood. Fresh seafood. Paradise. She’d seen the place from the road, on the edge of town, and forced Josh to stop the car. He’d muttered about the locals feeding out-of-towners to the alligators, and wouldn’t she feel safer at a Denny’s, but she’d ignored him and dashed through the rain to the corrugated-steel-covered porch of the Shellfish Shack. He’d had to follow, jacket over his head to keep off the worst of the downpour.

“I hope they do burgers,” had been his only comment as he’d followed her into the restaurant.

And now they sat in a cosy little booth, with a beer each, beginning to dry off. In front of Donna was a huge bowl of fresh mussels drenched in the most delicious garlic sauce, and in front of Josh was – a burger. Burned.

“You eat like a Republican,” she accused him, dropping an empty shell into the bowl provided and licking the sauce from her fingers. 

Josh stopped mid-bite. For some reason he was staring at her fingers. “Uh—What?”

“I said you eat like a Republican.”

“Meaning?” He bit down, devouring half the burger in one go.

“You have no sense of adventure. You’re Mr Conservative.” She dropped another shell into the bowl, and sucked her fingers again. Truly delicious. “You should try this,” she said, picking up a mussel and offering it to him.

Josh recoiled. “Ah, no. I don’t think so.”

“Go on, it’s incredibly good.”

“It’s basically a slug.”

“Coward.”

He shook his head, then tipped it to one side and smiled as if he’d just scored a point. Or secured a vote. “Anyway, I can’t. It’s against my religion.”

Now she’d heard everything. “Against your religion?”

“Shellfish. It’s not Kosher.”

She shook her head and poked the mussel out of its shell with her fork. “Josh, you eat bacon.”

His smile broadened, infinitely irritating and adorable all at once. “I’m reconnecting with my roots.”

“You’re a putz.”

“A putz?” He smirked and took another bite of burned burger. “You know, my mom wouldn’t let me say that word when I was growing up.”

Donna felt her eyes widen, horrified. “Really?”

“See?” He sat back, all self-satisfied. “This is what happens when you Protestants start trying to talk Yiddish…”

“So what does it mean?”

He grinned and took a swig of beer. “Look it up.”

Before she could answer, Josh’s phone beeped. Another text. He fished it out of his pocket and read the message without expression. “Amy?” Donna guessed, dropping another shell into the bowl.

“Mmmm.”

“You should call her.”

He nodded, and put the phone to his ear. Donna had hoped he’d go stand on the porch, but no such luck. He took a long swallow of beer and said, “Hey, it’s me.”

Great.

She focused on the next mussel and tried not to listen. Which was, of course, impossible.

“Yeah, it was fine.” Pause. “No, didn’t last as long as I thought.” Longer pause. “We’re grabbing some dinner.” Another pause, and he smiled. “Some kind of seafood place.” A swig of beer. “I don’t, Donna found it.” A longer pause, his eyebrows climbed and he was suddenly angling away from the table. “Ah, yeah. Listen, you can’t send messages like that to—” He cleared his throat. “Because sometimes Donna— Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

Donna kicked him under the table and he started in surprise. She nodded significantly toward the porch and he mouthed It’s raining in return. 

“Uh, what?” he said into the phone. “No, I was just— Donna needed something.” Another pause. “I don’t know, we just started eating. Probably two or three hours from here.” Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. “We were hungry!” He picked up his beer and took another swig. “Yeah. Okay.” The bottle slowed halfway between his lips and the table, eyes widening. “Oh…yeah, me too. Believe me, this is the last thing I wanted to do this weekend.” He paused again and smiled slightly. Despite the needle of pain in her chest, Donna found herself riveted. This was a side of Josh she never got to see; it was painful and fascinating in equal measure. “I will,” he said quietly, then looked embarrassed and shook his head. “I do. You know I do. Amy….” He glanced over at Donna and for a heart-stopping moment she felt she could see right through him, right into him. And then he looked away, down at the table, and in a low voice said, “I love you.” He was talking into the phone. 

Donna felt her heart break, and wondered that it didn’t make more noise.


	5. What Must Not Be Said

Rain fell in sheets from a glowering sky and the incessant flip-flopping of the frantic windscreen wipers was slowly driving Josh crazy. It didn’t help that he barely dared go above twenty along the sodden road, banked on each side by trees that appeared impenetrably dark in the fading light. Nor did the fact that – somehow – he’d missed the sign for I95 and that they’d been driving backward and forward in the back of beyond for over an hour. 

“We’re lost,” Donna said, and not for the first time. She’d been in a snippy mood since dinner, and it was swiftly descending into downright surly.

Josh clamped his jaw shut and resolutely said nothing. If he could just find the damn sign. How hard could it be?

“We should stop and ask directions.”

He couldn’t help it, he snorted a bleak laugh. “Ask who? The trees?”

She flung him a look. “There are houses. We’ve past a dozen driveways.”

“Oh yeah, great plan,” he growled. “We’d probably get chopped up and put in a stew.”

“Oh my God, Josh.”

“What? You don’t think there are crazy people living out here in the swamps? Armed and dangerous crazy people.”

“The only crazy person here is you.” 

“And this from the woman who thinks taking a walk on a dark beach is a good idea?”

“At least I don’t think that everyone outside the beltway is a homicidal maniac!”

“I don’t!” he objected. 

“Then pull over and let me go and ask directions. Look, right there. There’s a driveway right— You missed it.”

Josh grabbed the steering wheel tighter. “We’re not lost.”

With a sigh, Donna flung herself back in her seat. “Is this an alternative route?”

“Yes.”

“We’re lost.”

“It’s an alternate route – not the best route, I grant you. But, look, this is Florida. It’s basically a sand spit, how can we be lost?”

“Because you think Autoroute is for girls and your manly genes aren’t up to the job of navigating?”

He slid a glance in her direction and swore he could see actually sparks in her eyes. She was pissed. And that was always fun to watch, although when she was pissed with him…not so much. “My point,” he said, aiming for patient and probably missing by a mile, “is that if we just head north we’ll eventually get back.”

Donna’s head rolled in his direction, her eyes disbelieving. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s a sand spit! North or south, if we go any other direction we’ll hit the ocean.”

“And then Cuba?”

He refused to comment, fixed his eyes on what he could see of the road ahead, and took some comfort from the fact that Donna’s rain-damp hair wasn’t half as appealing as usual. 

Half an hour later that slim comfort had evaporated entirely. The sky had turned from glowering purple to black and the rain was still falling in torrents. He’d slowed to a crawl, the road looking darker, narrower and decidedly wetter than the flood they’d already driven through. At his side, Donna was silently fuming – and she hadn’t made a Cuba joke for at least fifteen minutes, which he took as a very bad sign.

The car lurched suddenly as one wheel dipped into a particularly large pothole and sent a wave of water sloshing up the passenger side. “Okay, that’s it!” Donna hissed suddenly, twisting in her seat. “Stop the car.”

“What?” He risked a glance in her direction. “Here?”

“This is ridiculous! You have no idea where we are! It’s dark, it’s raining and we are lost!”

Josh hunched forward, as if the couple of extra inches would somehow make everything clear. “There has to be a turning or a—”

“No, stop, Josh. There’s a house, look – over there.”

He slowed, peering through the rain at a yellow light that flickered between the swaying trees. “That’s a house?”

“I don’t care what it is,” Donna snapped, “stop the damn car and let me out. I’m asking directions.”

“We don’t need—”

“Stop the car!”

“We can— Donna!” 

She’d unfastened her seatbelt and was opening the door. “Stop the car, Josh!”

He slammed on the breaks and sent a jet of water pluming out behind them. “Are you insane?”

“Yes!” She snapped. “You have made me insane! With your stupid gene theory, and your burned burgers and your—” She cut herself off, took a deep breath, and calmly said, “I’m going to ask directions. Stay here.”

With that she was gone, and after two seconds he’d lost sight of her in the darkness. Cursing, he flung open his door and climbed out. “Donna! Argh…” His foot landed in a puddle almost up to his knee. “Damn it… Donna!”

Slamming the door, he hunched himself against the rain – which was blowing at a steady forty-five degree angle – and made his way around the front of the car. He could just see a flash of her pale face in the darkness. “Donna, wait! God, it’s cold!”

Her hair was blowing in all directions, strands sticking to her face. “It’s a house!” She had to yell over the noise of the lashing rain and wind whipping through the trees. “Look!”

“This is crazy! Get back in the car, anyone could be up there!”

“Decent, normal people are up there!”

“You don’t know that, you don’t know—”

“I know more than you!” she yelled, louder than was strictly necessary. “I know you don’t have to graduate from Yale to be a decent person. I know you talk about helping ‘ordinary’ Americans, when really you despise us so much you’d rather drive in circles all night than ask for our help!”

“That’s not true, that’s—”

“I’m going up to that house,” she shouted, “ and I’m asking directions. Go sit in the car if you’re too scared to meet a real American.”

With that she turned and started hiking up the muddy driveway toward the light that glimmered through the trees. Drenched to the skin and freezing cold, Josh watched her go. Frankly, he was too indignant to go after her. Where the hell had that little rant come from? And if she though he despised the average Joe, she should take a look at the Republican agenda. Those guys were— 

You despise us so much you’d rather drive in circles all night than ask for our help!

Our help? 

He wiped a hand across his wet face and stared into the darkness after her. There was no way, it simply wasn’t possible, that Donna could ever think that he despised her, or that she was ordinary or that—

Her sharp scream cut through the rain and stabbed straight into the centre of his chest. 

“Donna!” 

He was running before her name left his lips.

 

Amy paced the length of the living room with her cell clasped to her ear and Rachel watched her from over the top of her glasses where she sat doing a little needlepoint. Amy, Rachel observed, was not taking her son’s absence very well. She was unsure if it was jealousy or simply irritation that she wasn’t calling the shots. In their short acquaintance, Rachel had swiftly decided that Amy Gardner was a woman who liked to be in control – especially in her relationship with Josh. She imagined it made for some rather spectacular conflicts.

“He’s not answering,” Amy said at last, flopping down onto the sofa in a rather unladylike fashion. She might have dismissed it as a sign of the times if Donna hadn’t been so unrelentingly elegant. 

“Perhaps the weather’s interfering with the signal?” Rachel suggested. She glanced at her watch. It was only eight – too early to panic, although that knot of tension in the pit of her stomach was automatically tightening. It had started after Joanie, and since the shooting, well, it had never gone away. Not really. No mother should ever lose a child, to lose two… Impossible. She refused to consider it, and instead looked up at Amy. “Josh said you knew him at Yale?”

She nodded, her bored gaze sliding around the room. “Yeah, I dated his roommate for a while.”

“Funny how these things work out,” Rachel smiled, returning her gaze to the needlework. “I knew Josh’s father for three years before we started dating.”

Amy snorted a soft laugh. “Yeah, well, Josh certainly needed to be hit over the head with it.”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed, her treacherous mind drifting toward Donna, “he certainly does.”

Shifting irritably in her seat, almost as if she’d been able to hear Rachel’s thoughts, Amy started fiddling with her cell. “I’m going to call him again.”

Rachel watched her, but said nothing. 

 

A blaze of agony tore through Donna’s right ankle as it landed in a rain-filled pothole, twisted sharply and sent her sprawling face first into the mud. Her scream was part shock, part pain, and part pure rage. At the rain, at the mud – and at Josh. Mostly Josh. 

“Donna!” She heard his urgent shout, and struggled to get back to her feet but her ankle gave when she tried to put any weight on it, and she fell on her butt with a hiss of pain. Which was precisely when he found her.

“Oh my God, what happened?” He was standing there, staring at her with water running down his face, plastering his hair almost flat. And he was trying not to laugh. “You’re covered in mud.”

Damn him, damn him and his stupid little smile. She wanted to yell at him, but her ankle hurt too much and she was afraid if she started yelling she might lose it completely and start crying. She wiped at the mud on her face and muttered, “I hate you.”

“What?” He crouched down next to her. “What did you say?”

Donna sniffed and refused to look at him. “My ankle,” she said instead. 

“You hurt your ankle?” And now he was using that soft, concerned voice that always melted her from the inside out. “Where? Let me see?” 

She lifted her right leg slightly, and he touched her ankle with gentle fingers. “Can you move it?”

When she tried, a flare of pain shot up her leg and settled in the pit of her stomach, making her nauseas. “No.”

One hand rested on her ankle, the other wiped over his mouth. “Okay. Okay, let me grab my phone and—”

A bright light suddenly flashed across them. “Hello?” A voice shouted over the noise of the storm. “Who’s there?”

Josh started, and Donna didn’t miss the flare of real alarm on his face. Cautiously he got to his feet, his hands half raised. Despite everything, Donna’s heart ached for him – he was expecting a gunshot, and who could blame him? “Hey,” he called out nervously. “Sorry to bother you, we’re just…leaving.”

The flashlight came closer, masking whoever was holding it. “Leaving?” the voice said. A man’s voice. The light landed on Donna and she shielded her eyes against the glare. “Sorry,” the man said, and lowered the light. “You okay, ma’am?”

“I hurt my ankle,” she said, struggling to stand. “We got lost and—” Her ankle gave again, but Josh was there and grabbed her arm, keeping her upright. She flashed him a brief smile of thanks; he looked pale and edgy. “We got lost,” Donna said again, shielding her eyes to try and see the man holding the flashlight. “I was coming up to ask directions and twisted my ankle. We’re trying to find I95, north?”

The man approached, and behind him Donna could see the yellow rectangle of an open door and another figure – a woman? – standing watching. “I95?” he said, lowering the light enough that she could see him. He looked about sixty, tall and broad shouldered, wearing a rain jacket and hat. “You won’t be getting there tonight, road’s flooded up ahead. Good job you stopped here or you’d have been swimming.” He chuckled at his own joke, and Donna felt Josh tense. 

“We’ll just go back the way we came,” Josh said, tugging on her arm. “Thanks for your help, and sorry to bother you.”

The man nodded toward the road. “Flooded that way too, son.”

“We just…drove down it.”

The man took a step closer and cocked his head, staring at Josh curiously. “Down here on vacation?”

“Yeah, something like that. But we’ll just—”

“Bob?” A woman’s voice called out from the house. 

The man – Bob – turned around. “Tourists,” he called back. “Lost.”

“Well, invite them in, man!” came the short reply. “Don’t let them drown out there!”

Bob shrugged. “Got my orders. You’d better come in.” Then he nodded toward the car. “You might want to drive that up closer to the house, the road’ll be a river in about half an hour.”

Josh looked torn as he swiped at his rain-soaked hair. Then he glanced over at Donna and, to her surprise, she realised he was waiting for her opinion. 

“You should go get the car,” she said. “Driving any further would be crazy.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“And you should probably bring that file inside.” 

“Yeah, good point.” But he hesitated for a moment. “Can you walk up to the house?”

Actually, she didn’t think she could, but fortunately Bob was a gentleman. “Here,” he said, offering his arm, “let me help you.”

Josh seemed strangely reluctant to let her go, his fingers trailing down her arm as she moved away. Donna ignored the sensation as best she could, and turned to Bob. “Thanks,” she said, “this is very kind of you. I feel like such an idiot.” Glancing over her shoulder she saw Josh watching her, before he hurriedly turned and ran back to the car. She heard the engine roar back to life and the crunch of tyres on gravel as he pulled up behind the large pickup parked near the house.

In the doorway stood a motherly little woman as round as she was tall, her short grey hair framing a soft, smiling face. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed as Donna limped into view. “What on Earth happened?”

Donna grimaced, and touched her face and hair. All splattered with mud. Her suit – what was left of it – would probably never recover. “We’re so sorry to bother you,” Donna said immediately, “I just came to ask directions, and in these shoes…”

“Never mind, never mind,” the woman said, ushering her in quickly. “What a night to be out!”

Behind her, Donna heard the car door slam and the central locking engage and then Josh appeared in the doorway. He looked like a drowned rat, and Donna tried not to notice the way the rain made his hair curl. She had no business noticing things like that, not after today. Not after the toe-curling confirmation of her worst fear; he was in love with Amy Gardner, for real. For good. For— Shaking the thought away, Donna realised the woman was talking to her.

“I’m Maisy,” she was saying, “and this is Bob.”

“Hi,” Donna smiled at them, hoping she didn’t look too ridiculous. “I’m Donna, and this is Josh.”

Josh tried to dry his hands enough to shake, but it was a hopeless task and his attempts made Maisy laugh. “Goodness, look at the pair of you! Now, you’ll need to get out of those wet clothes – and we’ll have to put some ice on that ankle, Donna. But first, a shower. You can use Harry’s old room – there’s an en suite and still some clothes in his closet, so feel free to find something dry. I’ll get you some towels.” 

And with that she was off, bustling down the hallway. Donna didn’t dare move to follow, afraid of dripping mud through the house. Josh said nothing, just smiled awkwardly at Bob who was pulling off his rain gear. 

“So, where are you from?” Bob asked at last, opening a hall closet and hanging up his wet coat.

“Washington,” Donna said, “but we’re trying to get back to Cocoa Beach. Josh’s mother lives there.”

Bob nodded. “DC?”

“What?”

“Washington DC?”

“Oh, yes. Although I’m from Wisconsin originally.”

“Huh,” Bob grunted, turning around. “Grew up in Madison.”

“Really?” Despite the mud and her throbbing ankle, her smile was genuine. “Me too!”

Maisy bustled back down the hallway, her arms full of towels. “Did you say you’re from Madison?” she said, smiling broadly as she approached. “Bob and I grew up there!”

“Wow,” Donna nodded, casting a quick look at Josh. “Isn’t that amazing?”

He forced an unconvincing smile. “Yeah…amazing.” 

Maisy beamed and moved past Donna, turning down a shorter hallway to their left. “Harry’s room is this way,” she said. “Don’t worry about the floor, the water will mop up.”

Donna took a tentative step on her bad ankle and sucked in a breath. It hurt! A lot. She tried to brace herself against the wall, but then Josh was there and slipped his arm around her to take her weight. 

Despite their wet clothes she could feel the warmth of his arm seep through to her skin, and awkwardly she draped her arm over his shoulder so that she could lean against him. She really couldn’t put any weight on her ankle, so had to lean on him pretty heavily. 

“You know,” he said as she hobbled after Maisy, “you’re really… quite muddy.”

Donna didn’t bother answering. She was fighting off memories, painful and sweet. There’d been times when she’d helped him, when he was too light-headed to make it back to bed and he’d needed a steadying arm. It had felt like the start of something. And perhaps it had been; the start of the feelings that had grown like a vine around her heart. Only now the vine had thorns. 

“Here we are.” Maisy led them into a small room that was clearly half-bedroom, half-junk room. Stacks of boxes were piled in one corner, but it was clean and it had a bed that Donna just ached to lay down on. The walls were covered in pictures of fast cars and rock bands, tatty around the edges now. “We’ve never gotten around to redecorating,” Maisy apologised, dropping the towels on the bed. “The en suite’s through here.” She opened the bathroom door, “And Harry’s old clothes are in here.” She pulled open the closet. “Please, help yourselves. And I’ll put your clothes in the wash.”

With that she closed the door, and they were alone. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke, simply stood shivering in their wet and muddy clothes, trying to take in this bizarre turn of events. 

At last Donna sighed and said, “Next time, I’m driving.”

Josh didn’t reply directly, instead he nodded toward the bathroom and said, “You can go first.”

She wanted to. Oh, she really wanted to. But… “Thing is, not sure I can, you know, walk.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause before he added, “I can…help you.”

Donna cut him a sideways glance. “If you’re suggesting we shower together…”

“No!” He laughed nervously. “Of course not.”

“Joke,” she said wearily. “Really.” Then she nodded toward the bed where Maisy had thrown the towels. “Pass me one of those.”

He did, and then helped her limp into the bathroom. Her ankle was quite swollen now and the pain seemed to be getting worse, not better, coiling like a snake in her stomach. Feeling a little light-headed she lowered herself onto the closed lid of the toilet and shut her eyes.

“Hey,” Josh was suddenly crouched in front of her. “You okay? You look really pale.”

“My ankle hurts.” 

He winced. “It’s pretty swollen. Maybe you broke it?”

“If I did, I’m suing you.”

“Me?”

“Autoroute, Josh,” she sighed. “I should be on a plane by now.”

He stood up, but there was a little smile playing around his mouth. “Okay, I’m going now unless you need any…help?” His eyebrows were climbing, in fear she suspected. 

Tiredly she waved him away. “I don’t think Amy would approve.” 

The words were out before she knew what she was saying, and they stopped Josh dead. For some reason he just stood stock still and stared at her. “No,” he said after a moment, his voice oddly rough. “No, she wouldn’t.” And then he frowned, looked down at his shoes, and said, “But, seriously, if you need a hand I can… You don’t want to fall over or something, make it worse.”

Donna smiled, she couldn’t help herself. Even with a broken heart she still— No, she wasn’t even going to think the words. Not when she’d only just heard him say them to Amy Gardner. “I’m fine.” She knew she sounded sad, but hoped he’d mistake it for tired and in pain. “But if you hear a crash, I give you permission to come in.”

“Okay.” He smiled, tight lipped, and for once she didn’t know what was going on behind those warm, brown eyes of his. 

And then he was gone, and she was left to strip herself out of her wet, muddy clothes while simultaneously nursing her aching ankle and her aching heart. She wasn’t sure which hurt the most.

 

For some reason, Josh couldn’t stop shivering. It wasn’t just the fact that he was wet through, or even the lingering adrenaline that had fired through his system, hot as a bullet, when ‘Bob’ had come out wielding the flashlight. It was something else. Something was going on, something inside his head. No, not just his head. Something deeper, right at the centre of him. There was a pressure building, a precursor to a seismic event that threatened to overthrow everything. He could feel it like ghosts in his mind, skimming around the edges of conscious thought but never getting close enough for him to really see what was going on. Or maybe he just didn’t want to look. Either way, it was there. Something was coming, something big. And it scared the life out of him.

He was tired, he realised. The bed looked inviting, but he couldn’t lay down until he’d gotten out of his clothes. At least he wasn’t covered in mud like Donna. The thought made him smile – only she would go for help and end up flat on her face in a mud puddle. He felt something whisper on the edges of his mind and a little sliver of panic made him shiver. He shook it off and started unbuttoning his shirt, peeled that off, then the t-shirt underneath, and, with a glance at the closed bathroom door, his pants. His boxers were kinda damp, but they weren’t coming off for anyone—

His mind jerked in a sudden, utterly inappropriate direction and he hauled it back with a start. Thrusting the visceral desire back down where it belonged, he dried off with one of the towels ‘Maisy’ had provided and dug around in the closet for something dry to wear. He found an old FSU t-shirt and pulled it on. Harry, or Henry, or whoever, was a big guy; the t-shirt was huge, almost reached the bottom of Josh’s boxers. But it was dry. He scrubbed the towel over his head, no doubt leaving his hair standing in all directions, and was just wondering if Donna had a comb in her purse when she called to him. 

“Josh?” It sounded as if she was talking through gritted teeth. 

“You okay?” He cracked open the bathroom door, but didn’t look. “You need something?”

There was a long pause before she sighed and said, “I can’t get out of the tub.”

Despite the hot wave of fear – or was it desire? – that rushed through him, he couldn’t keep from smiling. “Are you stuck?”

“Are you going to help me? I can’t step onto my right ankle, and I can’t stand on it to… Josh!”

He still didn’t move; the mental picture she’d painted was extremely vivid. “You need a towel, or…something?” It came out as a squeak.

Donna tutted impatiently. “I have a towel! You think I’m going to stand here naked and ask you to help me out of the tub?”

With relief he opened the door further and peeked inside. Donna stood braced with one hand against the tiles, her injured ankle raised in the air and her other hand clutching the dark green towel around her. The short dark green towel. He tried not to stare at her legs, or the way the water was running from her hair and glistening under the bathroom lights along her elegant collarbone, or the—

“Josh?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and stepped into the steamy bathroom. 

Donna cocked her head and smiled. “Nice shirt.”

“I’m thinking Henry works out.”

“It’s Harry. And I like the sound of him.”

“You want me to see if he’s around…?”

“Josh!”

He smiled and took a step closer. “Okay, so give me your hand.”

Wobbling on one leg, she moved her hand from the tiles and he grabbed it quickly to keep her from falling. He could see her problem. She couldn’t step out. “How did you get in?”

“I put my knee on— Never mind. Look, just— Maybe if I—” She was twisting and turning, looking for a way to get out and avoiding the obvious. The obvious was right in the front of Josh’s mind, however, and ultimately it felt stupid to ignore the elephant in the room. 

“Stop,” he said, cutting her off mid-ramble. “Just—” He stepped up to the side of the bath. “Just put your arms around me, and I’ll…” He gestured at the thin air between them, “I’ll just lift you out.”

Donna was hesitant. “What about your back? I don’t want to—”

“Hey! Do you doubt I could sweep you off your feet, Donnatella Moss?”

Embarrassed, she looked away and shook her head. 

Josh wasn’t sure why, but at that moment he found her entirely captivating. Perhaps it was the flush the shower had brought to her skin, or her underlying insecurity that always brought out his protective streak, or the way her down-turned mouth looked like it was trying to smile despite itself. Whatever the reason, he found his heart racing as he carefully guided her hand to his shoulder and then slipped one arm all the way around her waist. His other hand found hers, clenched tightly in the towel, and without much effort he lifted her out of the tub. And there they stopped. Her good foot was on the floor, and she was still pressed tightly against him, her damp face inches from him, blue eyes wide. She felt slender and graceful in his arms, her hand feather-light on his shoulder and the ghosts in the back of his mind hissed an urgent warning. Deep down in the pit of his stomach he felt a seismic shift, stirring up emotions and sensations that it was impossible to acknowledge.

“Thank you,” Donna said at last, like him seeming trapped in the moment.

“I’ll help you into the bedroom.” 

She nodded and turned, but he kept his arm around her waist as she hopped out into the cool air of the bedroom. She aimed straight for the bed, pulling away from him and perching on the edge. When she looked up, her face was tense. “You should take a shower,” she said. “Warm up.” 

He translated that as go away and leave me alone, and under the circumstances he thought that might not be such a bad idea. This sudden sense of precipitous change was unsettling and he needed to touch base with the real world. “Actually,” he said, backing up and reaching for his phone, “I think I’ll call Amy, tell her what happened.”

Donna’s face stilled, as if it were suddenly cut from glass – perfect and beautiful but utterly impenetrable. “You should do that,” she said with a small smile. “Your mom’s probably worrying.”

He nodded, ignoring the fluttering awareness that whispered he was being a jackass. “I’ll go do that while you get changed.”

She waited until his hand was on the door before she called out. “Josh?”

He turned.

Donna’s eyes dipped toward his knees. “You might want to find some pants.”

 

Josh didn’t come back. Donna guessed he had a lot to discuss with Amy and she was incredibly glad he wasn’t doing it front of her. There were only so many murmured sweet nothings she wanted to hear – well, actually, one was too many. With some difficulty, she hobbled over to the closet and found a sweatshirt to tug over her head. It was long, came down mid-thigh, and she didn’t bother looking for pants. Josh had ended up in a pair of sweatpants that he practically had to hold up, and Donna knew she’d have no chance. The sweatshirt would do, and was long enough to protect her modesty.

With one hand on the wall, she limped toward the door. It seemed rude to simply sit there, and she doubted Josh was making small-talk with their hosts. Sometimes he had all the social graces of the pit-bull he was reputed to be. She inched down the hallway and found her way, slowly, to the family room. It was small and cosy and reminded her of home. Her parent’s home. A couple of armchairs and a sofa were clustered around the TV, and to her surprise she saw Josh sitting there with Bob, eyes glued to the screen. Looked like they were watching the weather channel.

“Oh, hello!” Maisy called as she saw Donna. “Let me help you.”

Josh turned, jaw dropping slightly at the sight of her legs. Men were so pathetically predictable. Anyone could put a quarter in the slot and get the same reaction. Ignoring him, she took Maisy’s offered arm and let the older woman help her to the sofa. It was a relief to sit down; her ankle really did hurt. 

“Now, let me see that,” Maisy said. “I remember when Harry was, oh, about twelve, and he came off his bike and sprained his ankle. Poor baby couldn’t walk for a week!” She smiled up at Donna. “Can you point you toes?”

With a wince, she did. “It hurts.”

Maisy nodded. “I bet. But I don’t think it’s broken.” Gently, she lifted Donna’s leg and rested it on a cushion. “There, I’ll get some ice. And some socks!”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.” 

“Nonsense,” said Maisy. “Who wouldn’t do the same?”

Most people, Donna wanted to say, but she just smiled as Maisy bustled away. Shifting, she wedged a spare cushion behind her back and lay back, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt unusually tired, perhaps because of the throbbing of her ankle or the aching of her heart. She wished she could forget the way he’d said those words, I love you. She wished she could forget the softness in his voice, but it was almost as if her brain had that moment on a playback loop. And she wasn’t even sure why it should surprise her so much, why the confirmation of what she had already guessed should be so painful, and yet it was. It cut like a knife through all the ridiculous hopes she’d been hording in her heart. Served her right for being such a sap.

With a grunt of irritation at herself she opened her eyes, and realised that Josh was staring at her. The concern in his eyes only poured more salt in the wound, but even so she couldn’t look away. Miserably, she wondered what it would take to stop her from loving him. Would she still feel like this in ten years, when he and Amy were married with a couple of kids? It was like a curse. Josh Lyman was her own walking, talking curse. What had she ever done to deserve this kind of punishment?

Josh tipped his head to one side, a laugh in his eyes. “Did you forget your pants?”

“Too big.”

“Yeah.” His gaze wandered the length of her legs and back again. She didn’t miss the appreciative look he gave her, and cursed him for being such a guy. Then cursed herself for enjoying it.

Fortunately, Maisy chose that moment to return. In one hand she was precariously balancing a pair of warm-looking socks and an ice-pack, in the other she held a steaming mug of something that smelled like chocolate. Donna’s stomach growled, and she realised she was hungry. 

“Here,” Josh got to his feet and took the ice-pack and socks from Maisy’s hands. “I can do that.”

To Donna’s astonishment, he perched on the arm of the sofa and carefully held the icepack against her ankle. She hissed in a sharp breath at the cold, and Maisy laughed. “Josh! Let her put the socks on first, that’s cold!”

“Oh!” Hastily he snatched the icepack away. “Sorry.”

“Not too many sporting injuries, Josh?” Bob was deep in one of the armchairs, and flipped the top off a beer as he spoke.

“Oh, you know, I…” Josh smiled nervously. 

“He watches a lot of baseball,” Donna offered, flinging him a glance. “Not sure if you can get injured doing that.”

Josh said nothing, just gave her his tight-lipped you’re dead smile. 

“Harry played college football,” Maisy said, proudly. “I know a lot about ice-packs.”

“I used to play baseball,” Josh said, eyes fixed on Donna as she pulled on her socks. When she was done he gently put the pack on her swollen ankle. “But that was before— I work a lot at the moment.”

Bob grunted. “I’m sure you do.”

“Hot chocolate,” Maisy said, handing Donna the warm mug, “also has great healing properties.”

Donna smiled her thanks, and with a happy sigh Maisy settled herself in the other armchair. They were like a matching pair, Donna thought, Maisy and Bob in their matching armchairs. She wondered how many evenings they’d sat there, just like that. Thousands, she supposed, over the years, and she found herself envying them. It was hard to imagine having that kind of relationship, and she supposed most people fell far short of the idyll. Still, it was heartening to know that for a few people ‘true love’ really did exist, even if she doubted she’d be that lucky.

“I think that’ll balance there,” Josh said, adjusting the pack on Donna’s ankle so that he didn’t have to hold it. Typical. He stood and stretched, glancing around the room. Maisy instantly started to push herself to her feet. 

“Oh, now sit here and I’ll—”

“No,” Josh assured her hurriedly. “Really, I’m good…” He sat down on the floor, back against the sofa, next to Donna. She handed him a cushion, and he wedged it behind his back. “Stay there.”

Settling back Maisy sighed again, wearily Donna thought. “I’ll make the bed up for you in a moment.”

“You don’t need to—” Josh stopped dead and sat bolt upright. “Oh. No. No, we’re not…” He gestured a little frantically between himself and Donna. “We just work together.”

Maisy’s round face flushed. “Oh, I am sorry, I just assumed... You looked so—” She laughed. “Oh dear!” Pushing herself to her feet, she said, “Now, we had a camp bed somewhere down in the cellar, if I can just—”

“No,” Donna protested. “Please. You’ve been so kind just to take us in, you don’t need to—”

“I’ll take the couch,” Josh offered, glancing at Donna over his shoulder. He looked panicky, and Donna’s heart clenched painfully. He was refusing to share a bed with her? On the campaign they’d crashed together plenty of times – if the hotel had been too full, or if Josh had turned up at her room, drunk and extremely talkative. Donna had always suspected he’d just wanted someone to pour coffee down his throat in the morning, but either way they’d shared a bed – and some cosy late-night conversations – and it had never once been an issue. But now he looked like he’d rather sleep out in the rain than next to her, and the only thing that had changed was the arrival of Amy Gardner. It was another slice of Donna’s friendship with Josh that Amy had stolen away, another twist of the knife. 

“The couch is fine,” Josh was saying to Maisy. “Really.” 

“Well if you’re sure?” Maisy seemed dubious.

“Oh, leave them alone woman,” Bob said, shifting in the depths of his armchair. “They’re grown ups, they can sleep where they like.”

Maisy just rolled her eyes, but her exasperation was mostly amusement as she settled back into her own armchair. “So, what do the weather people have to say?”

Bob proceeded to tell her in far more detail than Donna thought the subject deserved, but she did her best to listen until her eyes started growing too heavy to stay open. The empty cocoa mug magically left her hands as her head sank into the cushions and the burble of Bob’s voice joined the murmur of the TV and somewhere, in the misty distance, she heard Josh whisper I love you.

In the dream, his words made her want to sing.


	6. What Must Not Be Said

Josh woke with a stiff neck, and realised he was still propped up with his back against the sofa. But someone had switched off the TV and most of the lights, and the two armchairs were both empty. He rubbed at his sore neck and turned around. The kitchen light was still on and it threw a warm glow into the room, brushing the back of the sofa and glinting gold on Donna’s hair. Josh froze at the sight of her, so close and so still. She lay, fast asleep, her face about two inches from his and her lips slightly parted. With each breath she stirred a strand of silken hair that had fallen across her face.

Josh was entranced. He couldn’t look away, he barely dared to blink. In the back of his mind he could hear Amy whispering, he could almost feel the soft touch of her hands, but she was far away and he felt dazzled as he gazed at Donna’s hair. So close. She was so very, very close.

He wanted to touch her, he wanted to touch her hair more than he wanted to draw his next breath. It was a compulsion, and he dimly wondered if this was how Leo felt when faced with a Scotch. If so, he didn’t know how the man got through a single day – a single moment – because without conscious thought, Josh found himself lifting his hand and brushing a finger over Donna’s hair. He barely touched her, but the sensation was electrifying, sparking something primal that refused to be denied. 

Heart racing, he threaded his fingers through the strand of hair that had fallen across her face; it felt so soft and fine, nothing like Amy’s thick, luxurious hair. This was like silk, so light he could barely feel it, so soft all he wanted to do was bury his face against her and— 

Donna stirred. It shocked him like a splash of cold water and he froze with his hand still in her hair. Heart pounding for a full thirty seconds he watched her shift, her lips moving a little until, with a sigh, she fell back into a deeper sleep. He felt like a man reprieved, but even so it was difficult to pull his hand away and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing the errant hair out of her face. His fingers were shaking, his head spinning.

What the hell are you doing, Lyman?

Wiping a hand across his mouth he glanced up, over the top of the sofa toward the kitchen. Something must have drawn his attention because Bob was standing there watching him. Josh started, for a moment freaked out, but then he noticed the wry smile on the man’s face and the fact that Bob was holding a bottle of whisky and two glasses. With a nod, Bob invited Josh to follow as he headed out of the kitchen. 

What choice did he have? If nothing else he could try to explain why he’d been sitting there in the dark fondling – and that just made it sound repulsive – his assistant’s hair. With a wince at the twinge in his back, Josh climbed to his feet. But his gaze still lingered on Donna, sleeping peacefully, and the pang of desire he felt was so sharp it tasted bitter in his mouth.

He scrubbed both hands over his face and turned away, following Bob out of the room. Josh hoped the explanation he came up with was good; truth was, he was looking forward to hearing it himself because he had no idea what the hell he was doing. None at all.

He found Bob sitting in what had to be his ‘den’. A huge wide-screen TV dominated one wall, and a handful of trophies gathered dust on a cluttered shelf that was crammed with books. To his shame, Josh realised he was surprised the man owned so many books. 

You despise us so much you’d rather drive in circles all night than ask for our help!

Donna’s words were fresh in his mind, and he hated the fact that she might have had had a point. Except for the ‘us’ bit. How could she ever think he could despise her, of all people?

Josh hesitated in the doorway, distinctly uncomfortable. He’d never really been a guy’s guy, and he could almost feel the testosterone buzzing through the air in this shrine to all that was macho. But Bob glanced up and nodded to the only other chair in the dimly lit room. Josh had a horrible feeling it would recline and a beer would pop Simpson-like out of the arm, but he gritted his teeth and sat down amid faux-leather comfort.

On the table between them were two glasses of whiskey – two large glasses. If this was some kind of drinking competition, Josh knew he’d be in trouble. 

“Middleton, very rare, Irish Whiskey,” Bob said, lifting a glass and handing it to Josh. “They only sell 600 cases a year.”

“Wow.” Josh took the glass and sniffed. It actually smelled incredible. He took a sip and his eyebrows rose. “This is…very good.”

“It’s the best,” Bob agreed, sitting back in his chair and savouring the drink. “I save it for special occasions.”

Josh wasn’t entirely sure what to make of being a special occasion, but decided not to query it. “Thank you,” was all he said, and he thought Donna would have admired his diplomacy.

They sipped at their whisky in silence, and Josh was beginning to think he had the whole macho-bonding thing sussed when Bob said, “So, what were you doing to that girl, Josh?”

He nearly choked on his whisky. “I—” He coughed, swallowed, and coughed again.

Bob stared at him with a look he vividly remembered from high school. “You need some water?”

“No, I’m—I’m good.” Getting himself together he took another sip of whisky and said, “It wasn’t what it looked like. She was— I was just— There was some hair on her face and I—”

Bob grunted. “You don’t lie as well as your guy does, Josh.”

Swallowing hard, narrowly avoiding another choking moment, Josh squeaked out, “My guy?”

“Bartlet.” Bob sipped his whisky and stared at the blank TV screen.

“You…?” Josh cleared his throat. “You know who I am?”

“Sure. We get TV down here. Even newspapers. I know who you are, Joshua Lyman.”

“Oh.”

“You got shot. Bad business, that.”

“Yeah, it was.”

Bob nodded. “Was Donna there?”

“Ah, no. Look—”

“But you knew her then, right?” 

“Yeah. Look, I don’t mean to be rude but—”

“You mentioned a girlfriend,” Bob said. “Annie?”

“Yeah, Amy. Look, Bob, if you want to discuss the President, or his agenda, or, you know, anything about work, that’s fine. I’m happy to talk politics, but my personal life really isn’t any of your—”

“I’m going to tell you a story.” Bob turned to look at him, apparently deaf to anything Josh had to say. “If you’re as smart as they say you are, you’ll listen.”

In truth, Josh was tempted to get up and leave. Bob wasn’t the first person he’d met who’d gotten a little star struck – although mostly his ‘fans’ were considerably younger, and a lot more female. Still, it took all sorts. But if he left, Donna would accuse him of being rude to a good Samaritan, of being an elitist, and really, where else did he have to go? Back out to ogle Donna’s hair? Not exactly an option. So, instead, he settled back into the chair and decided that at least he’d savour the good whisky. Silver linings…

“How long would you say Maisy and I have been married?” Bob said.

Trick question? He hedged and said, “I don’t know – twenty years?”

Bob nodded. “I’ve known her all my life, grew up next door to her. Ran around all the time as kids. Maisy was one of those constants in life, you know what I mean? Always there, ready for a laugh or a joke or to just listen. She was just there, from five to twenty-five.” He smiled, a little sadly Josh thought. “Maisy. We did everything together; we were best friends. Even chose the same school, down here in Florida.” He chuckled. “Neither of us liked those long Wisconsin winters.”

“I can imagine.”

“Stupid thing was,” Bob said, leaning his head back against his chair, “I never imagined life without her, but I never thought twice about what that meant.”

Josh shifted, suddenly uneasy. He couldn’t put his finger on why but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He took another sip of whisky and hoped the sensation would go away.

“And then, one day, Suzie Chambers came into my life. Boy, she was beautiful, Josh. Tall, blonde, full of energy. She looked like a star, and she had me twisted around her little finger. It was like… I can’t describe it, it was like being—”

“Bewitched?” Josh said, his voice oddly high-pitched. 

“Yes.” Bob nodded. “Exactly that. She had me bewitched and I’d have done anything to be with her.” He sighed and shook his head. “I did do anything. Anything and everything to get her attention and keep it. And then, one incredible day, it worked. She chose me, out of all the kids at FSU, Suzie Chambers chose me. I felt like the king of the world, Josh. I thought I had everything.”

“So, what happened?”

Bob shrugged. “The usual. We ran around together for a few months; six months – a year. It was the early sixties, Josh. You know what I mean? Things were changing, women were changing and Suzie – well, she embraced it all. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. But all that time…” He shook his head and his voice roughened. “All that time, Maisy was still there. She’d still call, but I’d forget to call her back. She’d come around and I’d be out, or out of it. She wasn’t like Suzie, she was— I guess she was an old-fashioned girl, and I—” He cleared his throat and reached over to pour himself another whiskey. After he’d taken a good long sip, he carried on. “One day, Josh, she came over. And she— I’ll never forget it, she was wearing jeans and a green shirt. I remember that, even now, and it was almost forty years ago. She was wearing jeans and a green shirt, and she looked real pretty, and she told me she was engaged to be married to Richard Brightman.” He leaned across the arm of his chair toward Josh. “Right then, son, I realised what I’d lost.”

Josh felt his throat tighten, he coughed to clear it and said, “What did you do?”

“Do? Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“What could I do? Oh, I told her that Brightman was an idiot, that she was too young to get married, that marriage wasn’t for our generation, that she was conforming to an outdated stereotype.” He grunted a humourless laugh. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t tell her how you felt?”

Bob snorted. “Truth is, I’m not sure I knew how I felt – aside from angry as hell. But I was nine kinds of fool. Wasn’t until I saw her walk down the aisle that it really hit me, and by then it was too late.”

Swallowing another mouthful of whisky, Josh said, “So what happened? Did she leave him?” 

“Leave Rick?” Bob shook his head and drained his glass. “Maisy’s not that kinda woman. What happened is that I watched them raise their son, Harry, helped them celebrate his birthdays, their anniversaries – helped Rick build this house. And then, three years ago, Rick died.”

Josh felt his jaw drop; the whiskey was going to his head. “All that time? You just— Didn’t you get married, or…something?”

“Nah. Married? What would have been the point? There was only one woman for me.” Bob reached for the whiskey again and topped up his glass, then offered Josh the same. He shook his head. “So, a year after Rick was buried, I asked Maisy to be my wife.” He smiled, “She agreed, and here we are.”

“All that time…” In the soft light Josh’s drink looked like bronze, swirling in the bottom of his glass. “That’s quite a story.”

“Yeah.” Bob settled back in his chair and sipped at his whiskey. “Some folks think it’s romantic, but it’s not.”

“No,” Josh agreed, knocking back his drink and feeling it kick. “It’s tragic.”

Bob glanced at him, that wry look in his eye again. “You got that right.”

Clearing his throat, Josh ran a hand through his hair. His face felt flushed, and he figured Bob had poured him at least a triple. Maybe more. “Not that I’m not a fan of tragedy, but why’re you telling me all this?”

For a long moment Bob said nothing, he gazed down into his glass, sloshing the whiskey around the bottom, and then stared out through the night-black window. In the soft light Josh could almost trace the features of the young man he’d once been. “Because I saw the way your Donna looks at you, Josh. And I saw Maisy in her eyes.”

His heart stopped. “What?”

“The way she looks at you? That’s how Maisy looked at me when I was running around with Suzie, like I’d stomped all over her heart and she was trying to hide the damage. I was a fool back then, I didn’t know what I was seeing. But I recognise it now, Josh. I recognise it now.”

“That’s not—” Josh swallowed hard, but there was a knot in his throat that refused to budge. “That’s not true. She doesn’t feel that. We’re not— She dates a lot of men. A lot!”

Bob shrugged. “Watch out for the ones called Brightman.”

“No.” Suddenly Josh couldn’t stay in the room, stood up quickly and felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. Damn – that was a big glass! He laughed, but wasn’t amused. He felt nervous, jittery. “It’s a great story, but it’s not me. Donna and I are—” He had a sudden image of her walking down the aisle on the arm of Cliff Calley and his stomach lurched. Too much whiskey, way too much whiskey. “Donna’s my assistant and Amy is— She’s…she’s exactly my kind of woman. She’s smart and sexy, and brilliant. Yale, post grad. And—” He pressed his hand to his head, trying to focus. “It’s been great, Bob. Really great. But I need to get some sleep. I should… Yeah, I should get some sleep.”

“Road’ll be dry in the morning,” Bob said, pulling a TV remote out of a pocket on the side of his chair and flicking on CNN. “Interstate’s half an hour due west.”

“Great. Thanks, I’ll…” Not even the lure of twenty-four hour rolling news could keep Josh in the room one moment longer. “Night.” He turned and fled, but as it happened he was jumping from the frying pan right into the fire.

 

A sudden noise woke Donna with a start. Disorientated, heart pounding, it took a moment to remember where she was. The ache in her ankle helped, however, and she sat up with a wince. She was on the sofa, her hair felt like a haystack and she desperately needed to brush her teeth. The lights were all off, bar the kitchen, and she figured everyone else had gone to bed and left her there.

Typical. How the hell was she supposed to reach the bathroom if she— A movement in the shadows made her jump. But it was just Josh standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her as if she’d just risen from a murky swamp. “Oh shut up,” she growled at him, swinging her legs off the sofa, “how good do you look when you’ve crashed on a couch for hours?”

Josh didn’t answer right away, but took a few hesitant steps closer. “I was just,” he gestured over his shoulder, “talking to Bob.”

He seemed nervous, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As always the strange juxtaposition of vulnerability and arrogance made Donna smile despite herself. “Impressing him with your Little League awards?”

“Not…exactly.” But he smiled back, relaxing as he came over to sit next to her on the sofa. “He’s a talkative guy.”

Donna laughed.

“No, seriously!” Josh whispered. “It was like Oprah in there, I had to leave before it was my turn to share.”

“Scary.”

“You have no idea…” After a pause, he said, “You want a hand getting to the bedroom?”

When she nodded, he took her arm and helped her to her feet. Leaning heavily on him, Donna limped down the quiet hallway to the bedroom and shivered. “I wish I had a toothbrush,” she sighed as Josh flicked on the light.

“Oh, Maisy put a couple in the bathroom.” 

Donna raised her eyebrows. “Used ones?”

“In packets,” he smiled. “At least… Let me check.” Easing her down onto the bed, he popped into the bathroom and came back carrying two brand-new toothbrushes. 

Donna felt like cheering. There were plenty of things she could manage without – had managed without on the campaign – but she’d always kept her toothbrush in her purse. Perhaps she should start doing that again… “Can you believe how nice these people are?” she said, as Josh helped her limp into the bathroom.

He shrugged and perched on the edge of the tub as she brushed her teeth. “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing. I mean… Although,” he smiled his dry smile, “Bob knows who we are. Well, who I am.”

Her mouth foaming with toothpaste, Donna said, “What?”

“Said he recognised me from the TV. Probably after Rosslyn.”

“Ah,” she nodded, sweeping her hair back from her face and spitting into the sink. “Makes sense.”

“I told him you were my hired escort for the weekend…”

“What?” She jerked her head around, in time to see his ‘got ya’ grin. Refusing to smile, she threw her towel at him. “Did I mention that I hate you?”

He stilled, suddenly thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said, frowning. “You— That’s what you said when you were…” Damn him, but the laughing smile was back. “When you were sitting in that puddle.”

Refusing to answer, she just held out her arm. “Help me to the bed.”

He did, and she couldn’t suppress a little shiver of delight when he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her. It was as if her body reacted to him without her permission, an instinctive response that was utterly beyond her control. It was as infuriating as it was exciting. 

When she reached the bed, Donna scooted over to the far side, against the wall, and Josh perched on the edge. “It’s late,” he said. “We should get some sleep.”

Donna nodded. “Are you really sleeping on the couch?”

“I think…” He frowned and stared down at his fingers. “Maybe it’s better if—”

With a sigh, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It was stupid to let it bother her, and yet… “Fine. Whatever.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

God, he could be so obtuse sometimes. “It’s just, it never used to be a problem. We’ve done this before. I thought—” She cut herself off. “Never mind.”

“You thought what?” Josh said quietly, all hint of humour replaced by a gentle concern that made her want to cry.

She bit her lip to keep it from betraying her, and said, “It’s just, I thought we were friends. But now…” Tears were bunching in her throat, making her voice husky, but she refused to let them fall. “I mean, I get that Amy wouldn’t approve, but it’s not like—”

“It’s not Amy,” Josh said, hurriedly coming to her defence.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No.” His hand was on her arm, warm and strong and making her turn to face him. “I mean, it’s…” He stared at her for a long time. “Okay,” he said eventually, “you’re right. We’ve done this loads of times.” And then he smiled, a small smile as gentle as the hand on her arm. “You’d better not steal all the covers.”

Donna couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face; it felt as though it had risen straight from her heart. “If you don’t snore, I won’t steal the covers.”

He slid in next to her, and she was instantly aware of his warmth and energy. It felt like a stolen pleasure and she tried not to dwell on the fact that this might well be the last time they ever did this. Banishing the thought, Donna rolled onto her side and watched him. After a moment he did the same, and they were face to face and close enough for her smell the whiskey on his breath. “Are you drunk?” she whispered. It always seemed right to whisper in bed.

“Maybe,” he said. “Bob pours big glasses.”

“And you had to drink it?”

“It would have been rude not to.”

She shrugged. “Ruder to throw up in his spare room.”

“I’m not gonna throw up.”

“Okay.” She smiled again and snuggled deeper beneath the comforter. “So, tell me about the Oprah show… Is Bob secretly in love with his sister’s husband’s pet poodle?”

Josh smiled. “Kinda. Actually, it’s pretty sad. Turns out he and Maisy knew each other, like, years ago. When they were kids. But he didn’t realise he loved her until the day she married some gomer, and so he had to spend forty years watching them play happy families before the other guy died and he could do the right thing.”

“Oh my God, that’s so sad,” Donna said, eyes wide. “And so romantic… Wow, can you imagine?”

“It’s not romantic,” Josh said. “It’s tragic.”

“It’s a tragic romance, Josh. Romeo and Juliet, only with a happy ending.”

“You think it’s happy?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “He wasted his life waiting for her.”

“Wasted? Josh, it’s true love. It’s— It’s the kind of love that most people never feel their whole life. It’s…” She sighed. “Can you imagine what it would be like to be loved like that? To be that important to someone?”

He looked thoughtful. “I meant he wasted his life waiting for her because he never told her how he felt. If he’d just said something… Or she had. I mean, she could have said something too, when he was infatuated with Suzie she could have—”

“Infatuated with who?”

“Suzie. Some hippie-chick who had him spellbound.”

Donna hesitated, aware they were approaching dangerous ground but doubting Josh even realised it. She knew she should change the subject, but right then, with him so close, she couldn’t bring herself to walk the safer path. “Would you?” she said quietly. “If someone you had feelings for was captivated by another woman – man, whatever – would you tell her how you felt?”

“I don’t know.” Then, cautiously he said, “Would you?”

“No.” She knew she said it too fast, and laughed awkwardly. “Still, it’s a great story. A love that lasted a lifetime. Sounds like it should be a movie.”

Josh laughed quietly. “A bad movie.”

“You have no romance in your soul, Joshua Lyman.”

“That’s not true.” 

She knew it wasn’t, but wouldn’t admit it. Instead she rolled onto her back again and stared up at the ceiling. “You have to admit it’s rare though. Most people wouldn’t wait five minutes, let alone forty years.”

“I guess.”

“I just wish—” She sighed at the sudden ache in her chest. “I’ll probably grow old with cats. I’ll be this crazy old cat-woman with twenty cats in my apartment, and cat-hair all over my suits. You’ll have to brush me down when I get to work in the morning.”

“You’ll still be working for me?” 

“Who else would hire a crazy old cat-woman?”

He laughed again. “You won’t be working for me, you’ll be out dazzling the world some place. Or organizing your twelve beautiful children into neat lines and making sure they all get to school on time in clean clothes and with their homework done.”

She smiled at the image. “Twelve?”

“At least.”

“It’ll be twelve cats, I’ll just think they’re children. I’ll knit them little sweaters.”

“Cat booties?”

She laughed, trying not to make too much noise. “I’ll make you come to all their little birthday parties.”

“Now I’m scared.”

“You should be!” Only, the truth was, Donna was scared. Booties aside, the future sometimes seemed depressingly lonely. 

As if sensing her mood-shift, Josh murmured, “Hey.”

She turned, and to her surprise he reached out and touched her cheek. “That won’t happen. Donna, you’re so…” He smiled awkwardly and shook his head. “You won’t be alone. Any man who didn’t want to be with you would be crazy.” 

Crazy like you? But she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. Instead she just smiled and relished the warmth of his hand against her cheek. “We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” He reached behind him to switch off the lamp. Moonlight cut through a gap in the thin curtains, and she could see it glint in his eyes as he rolled back toward her and whispered, “Night, Donna.”

“Night.”

And then, to her utter astonishment, he leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. It lasted a couple of seconds before he froze, shocked at himself. Donna didn’t move, didn’t know what to do or what to think, but he didn’t pull back and neither did she. His breath was warm against her face and she could taste the whiskey as he slowly, tentatively pressed his lips against hers again. This time she reacted like touch paper to a match, her whole body coming alive for him. It felt like a dream, a fantasy, until she lifted her hand to his face and realised he was really there. And then his hand was in her hair, his fingers running through it as though it were water, and he shifted enough that he was above her and pressing her down deeper into the pillows as he—

A buzzing filled the room, slicing like a knife between them. His phone was vibrating on the bedside table. It buzzed again, then started bleeping. 

Amy. 

Josh fumbled away from her and snatched up the phone. In the darkness she could hear the soft beep of buttons being pressed, saw the blue glow of its screen light his face where he sat on the edge of the bed. And then it went dark.

For a long time the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing. Then, without turning around, Josh got to his feet. In an indistinct mumble he said, “I’d better sleep on the couch.”

Donna felt herself turn to ice. She didn’t stop him leaving, she couldn’t. She could hardly breathe around the weight that was pressing against her chest. But as he turned the handle on the door she forced herself to sit up, forced herself not to be the victim. “Josh?” He stopped, but in the darkness she could barely see his face. “Are you in love with Amy?”

After a long silence he said, “Thing is, how do you know what that feels like?”

When she didn’t answer he left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving Donna alone in the darkness.

 

The sofa was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the reason Josh was still awake when dawn turned the black sky grey and then pale blue. Of all the stupid mistakes he’d made in his life, getting into bed with Donna – kissing Donna! – had to be the stupidest.

Not that it hadn’t been nice… No, ‘nice’ was completely the wrong word. It had been exactly what he’d always imagined it would be – sweet and gentle, with a playful zing. Just like her smile. It came as something of a shock, however, to realise that he’d always imagined kissing Donna, but he filed that bit of information away and focused on the mess in hand.

He’d kissed Donna, he was dating Amy, and he didn’t know what the hell to do next. If only Bob hadn’t force fed him that whiskey! It was all Bob’s fault, because in a normal sober state of affairs this would never have happened. For a start, he’d never have agreed to share the bed after the whole hair-touching incident earlier in the evening, and for seconds he wouldn’t have…kissed her. 

How the hell had that happened? Once was an accident for sure, but twice? Thing was, she hadn’t pulled away, she hadn’t pushed him away, either, she’d just waited. Expectantly, trustingly. And under the weight of that temptation, and the whiskey, his willpower had simply collapsed. But he remembered the feel of her fingers in his hair, he remembered the way she’d melted against him, the way her lips had moved and—

Crap. He sat up and scrubbed a hand across his face. His eyes were gritty with lack of sleep, adrenalin making him jumpy. It was always the same when he stayed up all night – working, drinking, or, as in this case, worrying at an insoluble problem. His body craved caffeine, even though it would make him even more jittery, and with a groan at his aching limbs he pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the kitchen. He hoped Maisy wouldn’t mind him helping himself.

He felt marginally better with a mug of hot coffee in his hand, and outside the sun shone brightly as it crested the trees that surrounded the house. No rain, and a short drive back to his mom’s he hoped. But first— A door creaked, and he jumped like it was a gunshot. Donna! What was he going to say to her? He had no idea how to fix this! But the footsteps came from the other side of the kitchen, and to his relief Maisy appeared, round, beaming, and apparently dressed entirely in pink. It was hard to reconcile this woman with the tragic love of Bob’s life.

“Good morning!” she smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, great,” he lied, and hoped the bags under his eyes didn’t give him away. “I, uh,” he waved his coffee mug, “hope you don’t mind…”

“Of course not! Now, would you like French Toast? Or I could make pancakes?”

His stomach rolled at the mention of food, and he suspected the whiskey of having a lingering affect. “No, thanks. Coffee’s fine.”

He wondered if he should take a mug in for Donna, but dismissed it immediately. He was probably the last person she wanted to see, and he didn’t really blame her after the way he’d left. But Amy’s message… Josh had never handled guilt well, and the thought of Amy sitting at his mom’s, sending him messages while he was— Yeah, he felt exactly like the kind of guy he didn’t want to be. 

Stupid damn whiskey. He was beginning to think they had the right idea with prohibition.

He took another sip of coffee and when he looked up he froze; Donna was standing at the far end of the living room. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, her suit was crinkled and in need of dry cleaning, but all he really noticed was the distress that flashed across her face when she saw him. It was gone as soon as it had arrived, but it dug hot, guilty claws into his chest. If he’d hurt her…

Behind him, Maisy was clattering around with pots and pans – apparently ignoring his protestations about the French toast – and Donna was just standing there, half turned away from him and pretending to study the photos on the windowsill. Her purse was clutched tightly in one hand, and since it was all she’d brought with her Josh knew it was the sign that he could safely return to the bedroom and get dressed. 

He’d anticipated the cold shoulder, but he’d hoped it would come with a side order of boiling mad. Instead, she looked just looked miserable. 

Leaving his coffee on the counter, Josh stepped hesitantly around the breakfast bar and into the living room. Donna was holding a framed photo, studying it as if it were the Mona Lisa, and refusing to notice as he trailed to a halt a few feet away. Josh had no idea what to say to her until he opened his mouth, and all that dropped out was, “Hey.”

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t take her eyes from the photo. “Hey.”

“Did you—” Sleep well? Are you kidding me? “I mean, how’s your ankle?”

“It hurts. But I’ll live.” She laughed humourlessly. “Teach me not to be so stupid next time, won’t it?”

He winced, not entirely convinced they were talking about her leg. “Donna, you’re not—”

“You need to get dressed,” she said sharply. “I should already be at work. I called Leo to explain, and Toby’s going to send a couple of senior assistants to cover. But I really need to get into the office today – which means rebooking my flight, driving back up to Orlando...”

“You missed your flight?” 

She gave a sardonic smile. “It was last night, Josh.”

“Oh.” Last night. Yeah, about last night… He cleared his throat. “I forgot you weren’t flying back with me and—” Crap.

“Amy?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. 

“Yeah.”

With a shrug, Donna put the photo down but still didn’t turn to face him. “It looks dry out there, we shouldn’t outstay our welcome.”

“No.” But he didn’t move. He wanted to say something – to make things okay between them – but he didn’t have a clue where to start. Sorry I kissed you? I was drunk? Please don’t quit? Please don’t hate me? 

She stood gazing out at the early morning sunshine for what seemed like an age, perhaps waiting for him to find the right words. But they eluded him, and at length Donna turned around. Still not meeting his eye, she began to limp past him toward the kitchen. 

“Donna?” He almost reached out to stop her, but he didn’t dare to touch her. 

“I need coffee,” she said dryly, and he could have kicked himself for not bringing her one.

“You want a hand?”

“No.” Her answer was swift and absolute; stay away from me.

And so he watched her hobble into the kitchen and grace Maisy with her first real smile of the morning. Turning away, Josh headed back to the small bedroom where he collapsed on the edge of the bed, head in hands, and tried to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this mess.


	7. What Must Not Be Said

Donna kept her head turned, gazing out of the passenger window as Josh backed the car up, then crept down the gravel drive to the road. Bob and Maisy stood at their door, watching them leave, and she saw Bob bend to say something into Maisy’s ear. Probably something along the lines of ‘stop inviting waifs and strays into the house’ but whatever it was, Maisy shook her head and raised her hand to say goodbye.

In Donna’s purse was the carefully folded piece of paper with their address, so she could send them something to thank them for their kindness. Something from the Whitehouse, perhaps? 

When they reached the road, Josh stopped, hesitating.

“It’s left,” Donna said, without turning her head.

“I thought—”

“Left.”

“Okay.” 

He pulled out onto the empty road and they drove in a silence that was heavy and awkward. Closing her eyes, Donna cursed herself for the thousandth time for being so stupid. She’d known he was drunk, she knew exactly what he was like when he’d had too much to drink, and yet… She’d let herself believe. Stupid, stupid woman. She’d let herself believe it was for real, when it was only whiskey. And now, unless he was even blinder than she’d realised, he knew how she felt.

Her secret was out.

She’d kissed him, really kissed him. The memory was so vivid it hurt, and with her eyes closed she could feel everything; the way her heart had melted like snowflakes falling onto hot bricks, the way she’d been floating and falling at the same time, the rainbow behind her eyelids – the sensation of being oh-so-alive. It had all happened at once, like the dawn sun blazing over the horizon and then— 

Nothing. Darkness, loneliness.

Humiliation.

He had to know. Not even Josh could have misunderstood the way she’d kissed him, yet he’d walked away and now had nothing to say to her. Not that she wanted to talk, but she knew Josh. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew he was squirming with regret. He was driving with one elbow on the edge of the window, his hand constantly playing over his mouth – the way he did when he was nervous, or knew he’d really screwed up.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, he glanced over and she quickly looked away. He sighed in frustration and she felt a moment of pity. This sort of situation was really his worst nightmare; he never knew what to say, what to do. It was strange, she thought, that a man who could manipulate, bully, or schmooze some of the most powerful men in the world had the social skills of a twelve year old. Or perhaps it wasn’t so strange, perhaps that was why he could manipulate, bully or schmooze some of the most powerful men in the world. No one had ever accused Josh of being too subtle.

“I won’t tell Amy,” she said, surprising herself when the barely-formed thought found a voice. “If that’s what’s bothering you.”

His head snapped in her direction, but she was staring out the passenger window again and only caught the movement in her peripheral vision. She didn’t turn around. 

“That’s not—” There was a catch in his voice and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Donna…”

“You were drunk, Josh. No big deal.” Put it down to a drunken indiscretion and forget that his touch had made her body sing like the strings on a violin.

They drove on in silence and she knew he wouldn’t say more. She’d given him an out and he’d seize it with both hands. Unless he had to, Josh avoided emotional confrontation at all costs. It terrified him. They’d said enough – well, she’d said enough – to enable him to consider the matter closed. The fact that she felt as though he’d donned a pair of hobnail boots and stomped all over her heart was immaterial. She’d told him it was no big deal and he’d believe it like an article of faith. Unless she actually broke down and sobbed they could both maintain the fiction.

She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t trotted out the threadbare ‘just good friends’ line. In her current mood, it might have made her scream. And so, when Josh asked if she minded him turning on the radio she shook her head, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep the rest of the way back to his mom’s. 

 

Rachel Lyman just happened to be in the dinning room, at the front of the house, when she saw Josh’s rental car roll into the driveway. She was about to go out to meet him when something made her pause. He stopped the car, but neither he nor Donna made a move to get out. Josh was looking down and Donna had her head turned away, staring out the window. Neither of them were smiling. After a moment she saw Josh turn and say something. Donna shook her head, her lips moving slightly as she opened the passenger door. He reached across the car to take her arm, but she pulled away and just then Rachel heard the front door open and Amy’s strident voice call, “Hey, J, you look like crap.”

Rachel hoped none of her neighbours were within earshot, but her embarrassment was cut short by Donna’s reaction. She visibly started at the sound of Amy’s voice, then went very still and sat for a moment as if gathering her strength. A few seconds later her jaw clamped shut and she rose to her feet.

Josh, meanwhile, was climbing out of the car – looking decidedly crumpled. His attention was divided between Donna and Amy, who was slinking across the asphalt toward him. Donna kept her back to them both, frowning as she closed the car door. She was holding her shoes in one hand, and began to limp toward the house.

Concerned, Rachel hurried outside just in time to see Amy wind herself around Josh in a most indecorous way. Ignoring the spectacle, Rachel went to help Donna. “What happened?” she asked, taking her arm.

Donna shook her head, embarrassed. “Oh… I twisted my ankle. There was a hole, and it was dark and muddy, and—” She smiled, but it was a wan expression. “Stupid,” she said bitterly. 

Whatever had happened, Rachel could see she was upset, so ushered her into the house without further comment. But as she helped Donna up the porch steps, Rachel caught her glancing surreptitiously toward Josh and Amy, and the expression on her face told a story very different from twisted ankles and mud puddles.

The poor girl looked crushed, and Rachel had a horrible feeling that her son had done something very, very stupid.

 

It was obvious to Amy that something had happened. What, she didn’t know, but something. She hadn’t entirely believe the ‘we got lost’ story to begin with – it was Florida, a sand spit, how could you get lost? And now here was Josh, looking like he’d slept in his clothes and coiled tight as an over-wound clock. When she kissed him, he hardly seemed to be there. And his only reaction when she slipped a hand under the back of his shirt was to pull away and mutter about needing a shower.

Rachel had already whisked Donna inside, and they were alone on the driveway. She shaded her eyes against the sun and said, “Long night?” She didn’t bother to hide her scepticism. 

He turned on her. “What does that mean?”

“It means you look tired,” she said, brushing past him and heading up the steps. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry. It was a long night.”

She stopped by the door, and glanced over her shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course.” But Josh was a bad liar and when his gaze flitted away from her she knew she was right. Something had happened. Damn the bastard.

Not bothering to say more she headed inside and slammed the door. In the kitchen Rachel looked up from where she was examining Donna’s ankle – precious, sweet little Donna who might as well have had ‘whore’ stamped on her forehead – but Amy ignored her and headed straight for the stairs.

If Josh Lyman thought he could play her for a two-bit fool he was in for the shock of his life. He would not make her a laughing stock; Amy Gardner would not be cast aside for some ill-educated, blonde secretary. And if he thought he could have them both…? Forget it. 

She wanted him for herself. Entirely for herself. And then, when he couldn’t live a day without her, she’d drop him cold. In public, and for good.

Nobody humiliated Amy Gardner.

 

Josh closed the door behind him quietly and stood dithering in the hallway. He could see Donna and his mom in the kitchen; Donna’s foot rested on a cushion on a chair, and she had a glass of something in her hand. His mom was on the phone, almost certainly to the doctor. He wanted to go in, but when he’d tried to apologise in the car she’d told him to forget it. As if he could… Every illicit detail was burned into his memory, from the softness of her lips to the disorientating sensation of the world shaking all around him; the rise of something so long buried that its emergence would overthrow everything. 

He’d never felt anything like it in his life, and wasn’t sure if it was terrifying or glorious. Either way, it felt like trouble and that kind of trouble he did his best to avoid.

Upstairs, a door slammed. Amy, making her feelings known. Donna turned at the sound and briefly their eyes met, before she quickly looked away. As blasé as she’d tried to be about the whole thing, he knew he’d upset her. He’d exploited their friendship, crossed a line that he’d had no right to cross and those were reasons enough to explain the bruised look in her eyes. It didn’t have to be more than that. He didn’t have to have hurt her, really hurt her. Because if he had—

He wasn’t going there.

With a determined sigh, he headed for the stairs and Amy. He found her sitting on the bed they’d shared, staring out the window. She looked sad and the guilt settled into a hard lump in his chest. “Hey,” he said, closing the door and leaning his back against it. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me,” she said, not looking at him.

This was it, he figured. The defining moment. Would he lie? Would he be that guy? You couldn’t build relationships on lies. And he wasn’t that guy. He really wasn’t. “Bob,” he said, coming toward her and perching on the edge of the bed. “Bob had some really – really – good whiskey. And he poured me a glass that was like— He was pouring it like it was Coke!”

“So you got drunk?”

He hung his head. “Yeah.”

“And slept with Donna?”

“No!” He sat bolt upright. “No, absolutely not. Why would you think that?”

For an instant she looked confused, her enviable control slipping just a fraction. “Because you—She…” With a frown, Amy turned to face him. “What did you do?”

“It was really stupid,” he said, screwing up what little emotional courage he possessed. “I— It just… I kissed her.”

Amy settled, as if she was back in familiar water. “Bet she didn’t slap your face, did she?”

“No.” He found himself staring at the white sheets. “She should have, but that’s Donna...”

Amy snorted. “She’s been hot for you forever, Josh. I’m surprised she didn’t jump you right there and—”

“Don’t!” he barked, shocked by the unexpected wave of anger. Trying to calm himself, he stalked to the window. “Be mad at me, not Donna.”

“Oh, I am,” Amy assured him. She gave a humourless laugh. “I guess I asked you the wrong question, Josh.”

He looked over at her, anger giving way to self-reproach when he saw the hurt in her eyes. Hurt he’d put there. “What question?”

“When I asked you if you were dating your assistant,” she said with a bleak smile. “I should have asked if you were in love with her.”

“I’m not.” His mouth felt dry, hands suddenly clammy. 

“Aren’t you?”

He laughed, edgily. “No! She’s just Donna.”

“But you kissed her?”

“I was drunk.” 

“But you kissed her.”

“I was drunk! She was there, that’s all. She was just— A mistake.”

The door cracked open and a voice said, “Josh?”

He almost jumped out of his skin: Donna! A bitter taste flooded the back of his throat, his skin flushing hot and cold all at once. 

She was there, that’s all. She was-- A mistake…

“I didn’t mean—” he blurted, and then stopped when he saw his mom standing in the doorway. 

She was looking at him with raised eyebrows and there was a hard, disapproving glint in her eye. “I’m taking Donna to see my doctor, she needs to get that ankle strapped. I’m surprised you didn’t see to that on the way back, Josh.”

Awash with a heady mixture of adrenaline and relief, all he could manage was, “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“No,” his mom agreed sharply. “So it seems. We’ll be back in about half an hour. Donna’s rebooked her ticket and is on the same flight as you, so you can all travel up to Orlando together.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Thanks, mom.” 

She didn’t answer, just gave him a long, serious look and left.

His head was spinning, so he wasn’t prepared for it when Amy said, “What didn’t you mean, Josh?”

“What?” He needed to sit down; he needed to sleep for a week. His legs gave out and he sat heavily on the bed, flopping backward and staring at the ceiling. He just wanted it to all go away, all the confusion and hurt and risk and…everything. He wanted everything to go back to how it used to be.

Amy didn’t say anymore, she simply pounced. In one fluid motion she’d straddled him, and settled herself there, arms folded. Josh had the sudden, terrifying image of a Black Widow spider anticipating lunch.

“Hello,” he said, and it sounded more like a squeak.

Amy smiled. Scratch the spider image, now she was a purring cat eyeing up the cream. “We could go places, Josh. You and me. We could take on the world.”

“Isn’t that…what we’re doing?”

She cocked her head. “This? No. This is just the beginning. Don’t you see that?” Her arms uncrossed and she rested her hands against his chest. “We’re the golden couple, the dream ticket, Josh. Together, there is nothing – nothing – we couldn’t do.”

He felt the familiar racing of his heart, the familiar hunger that had been there as long as he could remember. That drive to push on, do more, climb higher. “Do you mean…?” He laughed despite himself. “What do you mean?”

“Anything you can dream of, Josh.” She slid her hands along his chest until they were resting on the bed either side of his head. Her thick, luxurious hair almost hid her face as she bent over him. “We can have it all.”

When she kissed him, it tasted like power.

 

The day just kept getting worse and worse. Sitting in Rachel’s kitchen with her ankle bandaged, her suit a crumpled, mud-stained mess, and her eyes full of grit from a sleepless night, Donna was beginning to wish she’d broken her neck instead of spraining her ankle. At least that way they’d have air-lifted her back home, or anywhere away from Josh Lyman and Amy Gardner. 

“It’s obvious she can’t drive,” Amy was saying, slouched in one of the wooden chairs and wearing those horrible black glasses Donna was convinced she only wore for effect. She’d have bet money that they had plain glass lenses.

Josh, meanwhile, was pacing. He looked edgy, and in her current mood Donna was pleased to find that she was utterly immune to the way his hair curled when it was still damp from the shower. Rachel had suggested that he drive Donna’s rental car back up to Orlando, since Donna’s ankle meant she couldn’t, and Josh was apparently trying to avoid spending another hour trapped in a car with her. On that, at least, she agreed with him.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she lied. “The pain killers the doctor gave me—”

“Said ‘don’t drive or operate heavy machinery’,” Josh pointed out. 

She glared. “I’ll be careful.”

“You can’t be ‘careful’! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’d be in if—”

“Maybe Donna could ride with you, Amy?” Rachel interrupted suddenly. Her sharp gaze darted to her son and away. “I’m sure Donna could use some different company, and anyway I need to have a word with Josh before he leaves. You two could go on ahead.”

There was no doubting that Josh Lyman was his mother’s son; they both knew how to give orders you couldn’t refuse. Although the thought of being trapped in a car with Amy for an hour was enough to make Donna consider faking bubonic plague; in fact, real bubonic plague might be preferable. She thought Amy would agree until she saw the woman smiling at her.

“That’s a good idea,” Amy said. “We’ve got lots to talk about.”

Crap.

Donna’s gaze flew to Josh, who had turned a whiter shade of pale. “You know,” he said, “that’s a really…bad idea.”

Which meant she knew. He’d told her! Donna felt herself blush to the roots of her hair and cursed him profusely, profanely, and silently. He couldn’t wait to confess his sins until they were home?

“Lighten up, J,” Amy drawled, getting to her feet. “It’ll be fine.” She glanced at her watch, “We should go anyways, or we’ll miss the flight.”

There was no time to argue, she was trapped in this hideous game they were playing, and the only way out was to just keep moving until they reached DC and she could escape back to her apartment. Operating on autopilot, Donna gathered her bags and hobbled out to the car. The pain killers were making her woozy, and she realised she really couldn’t have driven. Perhaps she’d sleep, or pretend to, like she had on the way back with Josh.

While Amy bid Josh a thorough goodbye, Rachel came over and gave Donna a hug. “I hope you’re feeling better soon,” she said, and for a moment Donna wondered if she meant her ankle or something else. But there was no knowing look in Rachel’s eye, so Donna just smiled.

“I’m sure I will.”

“And come down again soon,” Rachel instructed. “I would love to see you anytime – if you need some sunshine in the winter.”

Donna smiled, touched by the offer, although she knew it was impossible. Her place wasn’t here. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Have a safe trip,” said Rachel, her gaze turning to where Amy was at last detaching herself from Josh. “Chin up.”

Chin up? But Rachel had already gone to say goodbye to Amy, and Donna busied herself with getting into the car and trying to fall asleep before they even left the driveway.

No such luck. As soon as Amy slammed her door, slid on her oh-so-black sunglasses, and put on some god-awful music – loud – Donna knew she was in for an interesting journey.

“So…” Amy turned to her as they pulled away from the house, almost shouting over the loud music, “bet you can’t guess what I’m about to do.”

Cut my throat and feed me to the alligators? “No. I really can’t.”

Amy smiled, bopping along to the music. “I’m going to offer you a job.”

“A job? Is this a joke, because—”

“No joke, Donna.” Amy glanced at her again, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. “You know everyone who matters on the Hill and in the West Wing, and they know you and, more importantly, they like you. NOW can use that, Donna. We can use you, and we can pay you a hell of a lot more than your government salary.”

“To be your assistant?” She had to be joking, there was no way—

“No!” Amy snorted, turning the music down. “Are you kidding? I have an assistant, and frankly you’re wasted in that job – as Josh well knows.”

“That’s not true, he—”

Amy ignored her. “We’ve got an opening on the Government Relations/Public Policy team – lobbying, legislative research, some writing and political campaign work. You’d be perfect.”

“I’m not sure you really understand what I do for Josh, I’m not—I’m just his assistant, and I—”

“I’ve seen you work, Donna. You’re good, and frankly you won’t get anywhere sticking with the administration.” She propped her sunglasses on top of her head, and flung Donna another look. “It’s a man’s world, Donna. Josh isn’t going to promote you. Why would he? He can hardly tie his shoelaces without your help.”

There was a thread of bitterness in Amy’s voice, a touch of accusation, that Donna didn’t miss. She looked away, staring at the long straight road ahead. “Is that what this is about?”

There was a pause. “You and Josh?” Amy pulled her sunglasses back down. “I can see why you’d think that.”

“Is it?”

Amy laughed; it almost sounded nervous. “This is awkward,” she said. “I guess… Thing is, it’s not really an issue for me. I mean, Josh told me what happened last night and, yeah, he’s a jerk. But he was drunk, and I know it didn’t mean anything.”

“Right.” Whoever first said that truth hurt had severely understated the case. Hurt? It stabbed right through you with a blade of ice, leaving you frozen from the inside out.

“He feels terrible though,” Amy added, without mercy. “He’s not as entirely insensitive as you might think, so he does know how you feel and he’s kicking himself for exploiting your feelings like—”

“He didn’t do that,” Donna blurted. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, there are some rumours…” She was babbling, but couldn’t stop. It was either that or scream. “Even Senator Hammond’s wife seemed to think— But it’s not true. It’s never been true.”

“Right,” Amy drawled, without much conviction. “Whatever. Thing is, it’s not an issue for me – and the job’s yours if you want it.”

“I’ll have to think about it.” It sounded weak, but she felt weak and it was the best she could do. A new job? A job away from Josh? A year ago it would have been impossible, but with Amy on the scene, and Donna’s feelings spread out like dirty laundry for all to see, it had an appeal she couldn’t deny. A new job, with greater responsibility, prospects, a better salary… A fresh start, away from all this confusion and humiliation.

Wouldn’t she be a fool to turn it down?

“You, uh,” Amy said, popping a stick of gum into her mouth and offering the packet to Donna. “You probably shouldn’t mention this to Josh until you’ve decided. He’d get all, you know, freaky.”

Politely refusing the gum, Donna nodded. It was true enough, but she didn’t like keeping secrets from Josh, especially after the whole fiasco with Cliff Calley. Not to mention the fact that Josh was the one person whose advice she most wanted. Despite everything, she trusted his opinion. So she just smiled at Amy and kept her thoughts to herself; she hoped there was still a corner of her friendship with Josh that remained intact, enough that he would give her an honest answer and steer her in the right direction. Even if that direction was away from him, for good.

 

Josh’s stomach sank as he watched Amy leave with Donna; it felt like trusting the cat to guard the canary. 

It was an apt image. Amy Gardner was a predator, and he found her impossible to resist when she was on the hunt – hence the quick tumble in the sheets just now that had left him feeling more agitated than sated. Amy got under his skin, she had from day one. And however hard he scratched the itch, it never went away. 

“Josh?” His mom put her hand on his arm. “Come inside for a moment, I want to talk to you.”

“Sure.” He rubbed a hand through his hair and made himself focus. “What’s up?” 

He was expecting it to be something to do with her accountant, or her estate, as he trailed her into the cool of the house. So he was thrown for a loop when she said, “I’m concerned about Donna.”

“Donna?”

“Yes. What happened, Josh?” 

“She…twisted her ankle in a pot-hole when—”

“Not that,” his mother tutted, leading him into the kitchen and getting out a couple of mugs. “What else happened?”

That sensation of not being at home in his own skin was back again, and Josh found himself squirming. “Did she say something?” 

“No, of course not. Donna’s a very discrete person.” With a cup of coffee in each hand his mom drew him over to the kitchen table and sat down. He loved that table, he remembered having breakfast and dinner at it every day in the big old kitchen at home. “Josh?” His mom had both hands wrapped around a mug and was staring at him through wisps of curling steam. “Was it you? Was it something you did?”

He frowned down at the old wood grain, but inside he felt like he was running. Fast. “I don’t know what you mean, I—”

“I could see it in her face, Josh.” 

“I didn’t notice—”

“Josh…” She sounded disappointed, and it jarred like a sour note. He couldn’t lie to her.

With a sigh he dug a fingernail into the soft wood of the table. “Okay, something happened. But it was no big deal, she said to forget about it and—” 

“And you believed her?”

“I—”

His mom snorted, irritated now. “You wanted to believe her, more likely.”

“She said—”

“I don’t care what she said, Josh. It was written all over her face; someone broke her heart and she was desperately trying not to let it show.”

The breath in his lungs dissolved into a choking mist; he couldn’t breathe in or out. “What?”

“I said, she looked like—”

“…I’d stomped all over her heart and she was trying to hide the damage.” 

His mother stopped short. “Yes, exactly that. So you did see it.”

Josh shook his head. “No. Bob did.”

“Bob?”

“That’s the guy who— It doesn’t matter.” He stared back down at the table, feeling wretched. “I had too much to drink,” he muttered, clinging to the explanation like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

His mom tutted again. “At your age?”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“No.” She put down her mug, reached over and took his hand in hers. “What happened is none of my business, but I have to say this. Donna has been a good friend to you, Josh. More than you know, perhaps. And she deserves—” His mom sighed awkwardly and squeezed his hand. “You do know how she feels about you, don’t you?”

He stared at her fingers, her thin skin stretched over her bony hands. Her wedding band looked too loose now, but he knew she hadn’t taken it off once since the day she’d married his father. “I… Donna’s a very affectionate person, she—”

“She loves you, Josh. And if you don’t know that, then you’re not paying attention.”

It couldn’t be true. Because if it was true it undermined the very core of his life, the stable centre around which the insanity flowed. If it was true it gave dangerous life to half-formed imaginings that would spin his world upside-down if they ever became more than idle dreams. If it was true, then Donna had already slipped through his fingers…

Snatching his hand back, Josh got to his feet and paced to the far end of the kitchen. “People keep saying that,” he snapped, “but it’s not true. Donna loves everyone – she loves the guy who sells cappuccino, she loves kids in TV adds, she loves stray dogs. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His mom shook her head. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“I do believe that! Because that’s the way it has to be.”

“Why?”

“Because! She’s my assistant, I’m her boss and if we—” He stopped himself. He felt dizzy, like he was standing on a crumbling cliff edge and about to fall. The only thing to do was to do nothing.

His mom watched him, her blue eyes shrewd. “Are you in love with her?”

“Mom…”

“Do you love her, Josh? Because if you do, you can’t pretend you don’t. I know you, I know how you bury your feelings, but you can’t do that this time. It’s not fair.”

The cliff shifted beneath his feet and his words came out on the crest of a held breath. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because… She’s too valuable to lose.”

“Why would you lose her?”

He laughed, bitterly. “Because that’s what always happens?”

“Not always.”

“For you, no. For me, every time.”

His mom smiled, affection and sadness mingled. “Because you lost Joanie.”

“It’s not about—”

“Isn’t it?” She crossed the room and took his hands. “You were eight years old, Josh, and she was your world.”

He felt that familiar knot in his chest, the helpless sense of grabbing hold of something ephemeral. Something that wouldn’t be held, no matter how much you longed to keep it close. He closed his eyes, jaw clenched, and felt his mom’s arms go around him just like they had that day, so long ago. “My poor boy,” she whispered, holding him tight. He felt tears bunch in his throat and screwed his eyes shut. After a time she said, “It only takes one person, Josh.”

He couldn’t answer right away, had to haul himself back under control. Eventually, in a rough voice, he said, “Thing is, how do you know which one?”

She hugged him tighter, then let go and stepped back far enough that he could see her face. She had tears in her eyes, tears for Joanie, but she was smiling despite them. “There’s really only one way to find out.”

He blew out a nervous breath. “But what if you’re wrong? What if you’re all wrong?”

“About Donna?” His mom smiled again, brusquely blinking the tears back. “I’m not. You think a mother can’t tell when a woman’s in love with her only son?”

“Mom…”

“Donna thinks your ego needs to be checked. She knows it bothers you that you’re too busy to remember my birthday. She thinks Amy doesn’t show you enough respect, and that you don’t talk about Rosslyn because it makes you feel vulnerable. And she knows you hate that.”

He stared. “She… She told you that?”

“She spent as long as me sitting with you in the ICU, and Leo told me who was the first person to spot your PTSD.” He opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel forestalled him with a raised hand. “She loves you. But what I don’t know… What I don’t know, Josh, is how you feel.”

It was a good question. A terrifying question that brought him right back to that crumbling cliff top, the ocean crashing against the rocks below. 

His mom patted his face. “Think about it. You’ve got an hour to yourself on the way to the airport.”

“An hour?” 

“I’ve packed you some oatmeal cookies – consider them brain food.”

“You think I can sort this out in an hour?”

“You were always a bright boy.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Make sure you visit again soon. And next time, Josh? Just bring one woman.”

He threw her a look as he grabbed up his bag and glanced at his watch. He was going to have to put his foot down to make the flight, and he couldn’t shake the sensation that he was about to drive straight off the edge of that cliff…


	8. What Must Not Be Said

Amy was just draining her third cappuccino in Starbucks when Josh barrelled into the airport, tense and out of breath. Lazily she raised a hand and waved until he spotted her, but she didn’t get up to meet him. 

“Hey,” he was breathing hard – must have run – as he glanced around. “Where’s Donna?”

Always Donna first… Amy told herself not to let the comment get under her skin; the Donna situation was in hand, and making an issue of it would only draw the matter to Josh’s limited attention. Instead she waved vaguely toward the other side of the building, “She said she’d meet us at the gate.”

He looked surprised. “She checked in already?” Without me, he meant. She was beginning to wonder if he even went to the bathroom alone anymore.

“You’ve got our tickets,” Amy pointed out, and realised for the first time that it was literally possible to talk through gritted teeth.

Irritated with himself, Josh patted down his jacket pockets, then went searching in his backpack until he pulled out the dog-eared ticket wallet. “Sorry, I thought you had them.”

Amy slid off the stool. “Plenty of time.”

Together they sauntered up to the business-class check in. Well, she sauntered. Josh looked like he had to physically keep himself from running. There was no line, so they were checked in and through security in double-quick time, and Josh was half a pace ahead of her the whole way to the gate. 

“In a rush to get home, J?” She didn’t bother to keep the scepticism from her voice.

He faltered, turned and slowed. “No. Why?”

“Or are you afraid Donna’s going to disappear before you get to the gate?”

“That’s not—” He frowned and dropped back to her side, eyes locked straight ahead. After a silent moment he said, “Did you say anything to her?”

She snorted a derisive laugh. “You mean, did I warn her to stay away from my man?” He didn’t answer, but a muscle in the side of his jaw twitched and Amy figured she was right on the money. “You know, sometimes I find your arrogance a real turn on, but other times? Not so much.”

“I just don’t want you blaming Donna when—”

“We’re all adults. We had a civilized conversation.”

He glanced at her sideways. “About…me?”

“Get over yourself, Josh! We talked about something much more interesting.”

“Such as?”

“None of your business.”

“Amy…?” He danced in front of her, walking backward so he could look at her. “Seriously, I don’t want you— Donna isn’t like us, she doesn’t play these games. I don’t want her hurt by—”

“You don’t want her hurt?” She stopped dead, staring out the window at the planes taxiing in the golden evening sun until she had herself under control. It really pissed her off that he could hurt her at all, let alone this much. 

“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” But he didn’t close the gap that had opened up between them, didn’t make a move to reach out for her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” She made it a demand, not a plea. 

Josh didn’t answer, just stared at her and then at something above her head. “Our flight’s boarding,” he said. “We should get to the gate.”

Without another word they carried on until the handful of people left at gate 23 came into view. Donna’s blonde ponytail was instantly visible, her back to them - deliberately, Amy suspected. Donna was an expert at avoidance.

Josh didn’t hesitate as he made his way through the ranks of seats toward her. Slipping on her sunglasses and tossing her hair over one shoulder, Amy followed. “Hey Donna,” she called, before Josh could open his mouth. “Look who I found.”

Donna glanced up with a restrained smile. “Hey,” she said, her eyes fixed on Amy. “They’ve already called my seat, I was just waiting to make sure you made the flight before I got on.” By ‘you’ of course, she meant Josh.

“There was a line at the car rental place,” he muttered.

Donna smiled, as if reluctantly amused. “You didn’t use the quick drop box?”

“The what?”

“Never mind.” She stood up and reached for her bag. “Have a nice flight.”

Josh stared for a moment, then glanced at the boarding card in his hand. “You’re not sitting with us?”

Again, the tight smile. “The government doesn’t pay for business class tickets, Josh. Not for me anyway.”

“We could swap,” he blurted. “Your ankle…”

“I’m fine. It’s a two hour flight.” And with that she limped away, like some kind of latter-day Joan of Arc. Amy hated her; but more than that, she hated the way Josh was staring after her like a hungry dog.

Then she wondered how he’d look the day Donna told him she was quitting –and that, at least, made her smile.

 

The thing Josh most hated about flying was being forced to sit still. It wasn’t something that came naturally, especially not when his mind was in overdrive. He needed to move, to pace, and the seatbelt across his lap felt like the bars of a prison. It didn’t help that Amy kept glaring at him over the top of her glasses like a disapproving schoolmarm. 

“What?” he snapped eventually, and then kicked himself for provoking the sour twist of her lips that usually preceded a flood of sarcasm.

“Do you need the bathroom?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Do I… What?”

“You’re fidgeting like a five year old who needs to pee.”

Gritting his teeth, he glared at the TV monitor. “I hate these seats.”

After a moment’s pause, Amy said, “Maybe you’d be more comfortable back in economy.”

He didn’t miss the reference to Donna, mostly because it was true. That’s exactly where he wanted to be, although he had no idea what he’d do once he was there. His mom’s words and assertions had overthrown everything, but he didn’t feel he could even think about it until he’d talked to Donna again. Reconnected. After he’d pulled away last night – stomped all over her heart – he’d felt completely cut off from her. How could he hope to know how she felt? If he hadn’t known before, how could he know now, when they were so distant?

Amy’s sharp intake of breath told him he was fidgeting again. “Read a book,” she grumbled, her own nose buried in the newspaper.

It was the last thing he wanted to do. He could barely make it through a novel when he was relaxed, right now he just needed to be—

The seatbelt sign pinged off and he had to stop himself from jumping up. He really needed to see Donna, but Amy wouldn’t understand. Well, actually, she probably would, which was the problem. 

An air steward appeared, offering a glass of wine. Josh declined, Amy didn’t. But, typically, once she had the glass in her hand she decided it was time to use the bathroom. “Hold this,” she said as he got up to let her out. 

He watched her sway down the aisle, her hips swishing in a way that suddenly seemed too self-consciously sexy. Studied, even. He turned away, standing in the aisle holding Amy’s wine, and found himself staring at the curtain separating business from economy class. It swayed slightly with the motion of the plane, and through the slight gap he thought he glimpsed Donna’s hair. 

The temptation was too much. Leaving Amy’s drink on her tray, he headed for the curtain without looking back. The flash of blonde hair he’d seen didn’t belong to Donna, but that didn’t stop him as he headed down the aisle. Toward the back of the plane he spotted her, the only occupant of two seats next to a window. Her head was cushioned against her wadded up jacket, and she seemed to be asleep. 

Up ahead a steward clanked along pushing a trolley, and Josh ducked into the seat next to Donna and sat down. He wasn’t sure if she was really asleep, or just faking like she had in the car that morning. Either was okay with him since he hadn’t got a clue what to say to her, and while her eyes were closed he could study her and try to get a handle on the chaos inside his head.

Are you in love with her, Josh? His mom’s question circled his mind and he supposed if there wasn’t some truth in it he’d have answered it already. Do you love her? He’d once asked his therapist why his PTSD had developed so long after the shooting, whether that was normal. She’d told him that onset was often delayed in people who were skilled at avoidance, and that he seemed to be some kind of master of the art. He’d spent months avoiding memories of Rosslyn, and in the end they’d come around and bitten him on the ass. He wondered if it were possible that he’d spent months – even years – avoiding his feelings for Donna.

He remembered the sick feeling he’d gotten when she’d first told him about Cliff – the sense of betrayal had cut like a knife. Professional betrayal, he’d assumed at the time. But what if it was more than that? He remembered a shadow of that feeling every time he saw her heading out for a date. Jealousy, as if he were the only one she should be with. He’d couched it in terms of work, of needing her in the office, but… Sam said he’d never felt that way about Cathy, and he was pretty sure Leo had never felt anything like jealousy regarding Margaret. 

So had it never been about work? All this time, had it had been about something else entirely? Had it had been about this? About the feelings he kept banked up behind a door he was too scared to open?

He rubbed both hands over his face and wondered how he hadn’t seen this before. How had he been so blind to this?

Didn’t want to see it, most likely. It sounded like his mother’s voice, and she was probably right.

But now his eyes had been opened, what the hell was he supposed to do? Donna, get me the NLRB file and, hey, maybe I could call you some time? Yeah, brilliant. 

“What happened?” Donna opened one eye and looked at him. “Did they throw you out of business class?”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread right across his face. “Didn’t want you to be lonely.”

“I’m sleeping.” She closed her eye and made a show of settling down, but after a moment she sighed and sat up straight. “But now your staring is bothering me.”

“My staring?”

She sighed, infinitely weary. “What do you want, Josh?”

It was a very good question indeed. One to which he had no good answer, so instead he hedged and said, “How’s your ankle?”

Donna’s expression was arch. “It’s fine, Josh. It’s just a sprain. I’ll be at work in the morning, so you can stop worrying about dealing with a temp.”

“I wasn’t—” He sighed, afraid of making things worse. He could hardly tell her that work was the last thing on his mind. But the seats were narrow and he could feel her closeness like a physical force. He couldn’t remember if he’d always felt it and never noticed, or if this was some new facet of the evolving situation. Either way, sitting there so close to her, with such confused feelings, made silence distinctly uncomfortable. He had to speak, just to break the tension. “I’m sorry you hurt your ankle.”

“It was my fault,” she said quietly, turning to gaze out the window.

“No, it wasn’t. It was dark.”

He saw her bitter smile. “Yes it was.”

Obviously they weren’t talking about her ankle, and the defeated slump to her shoulders made him want to pull her into his arms and try to explain everything he was struggling to understand. But he couldn’t. For a start, he doubted he’d even make sense to himself. That aside, Amy was on the other side of a scrap of curtain and she didn’t deserve that kind of public humiliation. Not to mention the fact that Donna would be well within her rights to slap him hard and tell him where to shove his newly discovered feelings. He was her boss, after all, and he had to be sure of his footing before he did anything. Which, given his track record in the field, probably meant waiting at least another decade before making any kind of move.

Even so, he couldn’t stand to see her so sad – or let her blame herself and feel that she’d been foolish. He had to offer her something, because she deserved some kind of truth. Cautiously, his mouth suddenly dry, he took her hand in his. Her only response was to subtly tense, her fingers laying still in his hand. “Donna?”

“What?” She hadn’t turned around, wasn’t looking at him.

“I wasn’t drunk last night.”

Her eyes closed and for an instant her face crumpled, ineffably sad. But then it was past and a resigned smile touched her lips. She understood him, she always did. Her fingers squeezed his hand once, then pulled away. He felt strangely bereft by the loss of even that slight contact and marvelled at the speed with which his brain seemed to be rewiring itself to put her at the centre of his world. Or perhaps she’d been there all along and he just hadn’t noticed. 

“Josh?”

“Yeah?” 

Her smile was gone, but the distance was gone too. When he looked at her, he could really see her again. “There’s something you should know.”

He felt a beat of unease at her serious tone. “What?”

“Amy…” She smiled awkwardly and chewed at her lower lip. “Amy’s offered me a job. On NOW’s Government Relations/Public Policy team. Lobbying, legislative research and—”

“She what?” The sucker punch almost knocked him out of the chair. “Amy offered you a job?”

“Okay, don’t freak out.” Donna glanced around anxiously, as if he were a toddler about to throw a tantrum in the supermarket. “I haven’t accepted it yet.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen and I’ll tell you why. She only offered you the job to prove a point to me! I can’t believe— Well, I can believe— Damn it!” 

“Because of you?” Donna’s eyes were round and hurt. “Really?”

“She—” His anger fled, replaced by a fierce need to protect her. “Not that they wouldn’t be lucky to have you, but—”

“But only as an assistant, right?” She shook her head and smiled despondently. “I guess I thought— I mean, she said it wasn’t about you.”

“I bet she did.” He was going to kill her. He was seriously going to kill her! He’d told her to leave Donna out of their bickering, but this was taking things so far over the line…

Donna laughed, embarrassed and angry at herself. “I must have ‘sucker’ stamped on my forehead this weekend.”

“No…” 

She stared out the window again and when she spoke her voice was rough-edged, “I should never have gotten out of bed on Saturday.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Not your fault.”

Only it was. All of it. “They really would be lucky to have you,” he said. “And not just as an assistant. You have so much to offer, Donna.”

She looked at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. “Really?” He met her doubtful look and held it, saw the doubt change to incredulity, and then she blushed and that incredible, unstoppable smile of hers escaped. It somehow managed to be for him alone, and yet it lit up the whole aeroplane. “Thanks,” she said.

“It’s true.”

“Then you think I could do the job?”

He snorted a laugh. “Of course you could to the job.”

“And you…?” The uncertainty was back. “So you think I should take it?” 

And right there was where the wheels came off entirely.

 

Amy had drained her wine and read everything interesting in the paper before Josh bothered to return. He’d obviously been visiting Donna, but he didn’t offer any explanation as he slipped into the seat next to her and glared at the TV screen. She watched him for a moment, then said, “So how is she?”

Josh just shook his head, still staring straight ahead. “You’re a piece of work,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Seriously, Amy…”

The quiet whip-crack in his voice, she realised, was the sound of her plan backfiring. “I assume she told you about the job?”

“You can’t play games with people’s lives like that! Donna’s not—”

“A player? Don’t kid yourself, Josh. She plays you all the time.”

Jaw locked he just shook his head. “She’s not taking the job.”

“Did you tell her not to, J?” Amy snorted. “Did you put down your manly foot and tell the little woman to get back to answering your phone and—”

“You know, I used to find your insanity endearing. Now I just find it intensely irritating!”

His voice rose at the end, drawing the attention of a concerned stewardess who came over, her lipstick mouth pressed into an expression of annoyance. “Do you need something?”

Josh started at the words, his head snapping around. “I— No. Sorry, I was just… How long until we land?”

The lipstick stretched into a smile. “Thirty minutes, sir.”

“Don’t suppose you have any parachutes on board…”

The woman looked alarmed. “Sir, I—”

“It was a joke,” he sighed. “Never mind.”

Amy glared out the window and let him simmer in silence. The comment had been meant for her, a perfect example of Josh Lyman’s patented passive aggression. Parachutes? She supposed the metaphor was apt, if hackneyed, but she’d be damned if she’d let him be the one to bail out. Josh Lyman wasn’t the only one with an ego to protect.

“I told Donna the job offer had nothing to do with you, and I wasn’t lying.” Which, in itself, was a lie. 

Josh barked a restrained laugh. “And if you think I believe that then you—”

“I don’t care what you believe,” she said, still staring out the window. “It’s not like we’re going to be seeing each other again, but you can tell Donna the offer still stands.”

He went very still, which was usually a bad sign. “So that’s it?”

“What’s what?” She turned at last and saw him watching her with more regret than she’d imagined. It was almost enough to soften her resolve. 

“It’s over?”

She shrugged. “It was fun, but I don’t share, J. If you want to screw your assistant then—”

“Amy…” 

“You’re going to deny it now?”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned back to the small TV screen. “I’m sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hurt me?” She laughed a laugh she didn’t feel. “You didn’t. But you should be sorry, we could have been a great team.”

“Yeah.” He smiled slightly and she had to look away; it was hard to play the ice-queen when you were melting inside. 

“Come and get your stuff some time,” she said, staring out at the grey clouds blanketing Washington. “We’ll open a bottle of merlot.”

“Sounds good.”

She knew he wouldn’t come though, he’d be too entranced by the perfect Donna Moss, and she hated him for that. She hated them both for that, for making her look like a fool. But this game wasn’t over yet, and Amy Gardner always played to the bitter end. And she played to win.


	9. What Must Not Be Said

Donna had been given the day off work by a contrite and strangely distracted Josh. He’d shifted restlessly from foot to foot at the baggage claim, while she’d yanked her small overnight bag off the carousel, and muttered about her needing to rest her ankle. She’d protested, of course, but it hadn’t been a serious effort. After the weekend she’d just endured she’d earned a day off – at the least.

So she’d spent the day mooching about her apartment, noticing guiltily that her ankle was remarkably better and wondering if she should add more of a limp the next day, for effect. But she decided not to, suspecting that her day off had more to do with Josh’s guilt over the other injuries she’d suffered. And those were still painful enough that she did her best not to think about them.

Instead she indulged in a long hot bath and her favourite book. She briefly considered going out for coffee and muffins, but it reminded her too much of Rachel Lyman’s kitchen – and that thought brought her relentlessly back to Josh and the confused tangle of emotion that twisted inside her chest. It was as easy to unravel as a knot of barbed wire, and she didn’t dare try for fear of hurting herself. Perhaps, if she just ignored it, the pain would go away? And perhaps if pigs flew…

Pushing the depressing thought away, Donna was heading for the fridge in search of a glass of wine when the phone rang. She snatched it up with one hand as she retrieved a half-full bottle with the other. “You gave me the day off,” she said, without preamble.

There was a lengthy pause, and then, “Ah, yeah. Thing is, there’s this thing…”

With a sigh, she landed the bottle hard on the counter. “You need me to come in?”

“No.”

“So, by ‘thing’, you mean you can’t find the stapler?”

She could almost hear him smile down the phone. “No, by ‘thing’ I mean that I need to go through the papers on the water bill before the legislative meeting tomorrow.”

“And you need me for this because…?”

“Because I need you…to, you know, come up with some off-the-wall crazy idea that might just save the bill. You know, the way you do.”

Damn him for making her smile. “I do that?”

“Yeah. But… It won’t be so bad. I thought we could go over it at my place, this evening. Take a cab – I’ll pay. Then you won’t need to drive. Because of your ankle.”

“A cab? You’re not going to come get me on your way home?”

“I can’t, I’m— I have another thing.”

“What thing? I have your schedule, and—”

“It’s not on my schedule.”

“Oh.” That meant it was Amy. Suddenly she wanted him off the phone, wanted him a million miles away. “Okay, I’ll be there about eight.” 

“Make it seven.”

“Seven?” She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “That’s less than an hour.”

“It’s not that far.”

And this was typical. This was what drove her crazy! Who else would just assume she could drop everything at less than an hour’s notice to go trawl through a pile of mind-numbing papers all evening? “It didn’t occur to your tiny, addled brain that I might have plans tonight?”

There was another long pause. “Do you?”

“That’s not the point. I might have done.”

“But you don’t?”

“That’s not the point!”

“I’ll see you at seven.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Don’t be late.”

And that was that. Donna poured herself a generous glass of wine – since she wasn’t driving – and tried to decide who irritated her more. Josh, for assuming she had nothing better to do than come running when he called, or herself, for having nothing better to do and for doing the running.

It was a tough choice, and she decided to ignore it in favour of getting dressed. Tempting as it was, she didn’t think turning up at his place in PJ’s would be such a good idea. 

 

Her knock on the door came at exactly two minutes to seven and sent Josh’s heart into an unstable freefall. It landed with a jolt somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and he realised he’d never been more nervous. Not even on the day the President had named him Deputy Chief of Staff. Next to what he was trying to do tonight, running the country was a cake walk.

Scrubbing a hand one final time through his hair, as if it might help keep it under control, Josh plastered on a relaxed smile and pulled open the door. And she floored him instantly. Instead of the neat-pressed, professional Donna Moss he was expecting, she stood there in jeans and some kind of long-sleeved tee-shirt thing, with her hair in a haphazard ponytail. Long-limbed and slender, she looked utterly, utterly—

“What?” She gave a cautious smile.

“You look…nice.” Nice? So much for his vaunted verbal brilliance.

Donna stared at him like he was crazy, then pushed past into the apartment. “This better not take long,” she warned. “I have plans later and—” She stopped dead, staring around the room, her eyes coming to rest on the table set for dinner. 

Ah ha! She wasn’t expecting that. He was just beginning to feel a little jolt of satisfaction when she turned to face him. Her expression was cool to the point of chill. “Amy’s coming over later?”

“No.” He shrugged, aiming for nonchalant, but missing by a mile. “We’re not – you know – together anymore.”

Donna’s face filled with a touching concern. “Really? Did she dump you?” 

“It was…mutual.”

Her gaze darted to the table, then returned to him. “Oh... Okay.” A slight and delightful smile toyed with her lips, half curios and half self-conscious. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink and Josh felt his heart begin to thump. “So,” she said, “do you have the files?”

“The…files?”

“For the water bill?”

“Oh… Yeah, they’re right here. Sit down, I’ll fix us a drink.”

Cautiously, Donna perched on the edge of the sofa. He could feel her eyes on his back as he poured two large glasses of wine. “Josh? What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Even to his ears, the denial sounded thin. “I thought it would be more fun if we, you know, had some dinner. A couple of drinks.”

She smiled again, that almost-affectionate smile he could never make out. “Right.”

Grabbing up the files, he managed to carry them, and both glasses, over to the sofa. Handing the files off to Donna he sat down next to her. “I thought we could start with the—”

“These aren’t the water files.”

“What?”

“Their covers aren’t blue. The water files have blue covers because they’re filed under legislative affairs.”

He glanced down at the two buff folders in her hands. “Then what are—”

“Josh, why am I here?” 

“To go over the water thing before—” 

“Is this about the other night?” Her face had gone cold again, her arms hugging the folders tight against her chest. “Have you lured me here under the pretence of work to talk about the other night? Because I really don’t—”

“It’s not,” he assured her, smiling nervously as he sipped his wine. “It’s not about that. I mean, not directly. Although, in a way, I guess it is.”

“Erudite.”

“It sounded better in my head.”

“If you’re trying to apologise again I—”

“I’m not,” he insisted, knocking back another mouthful and wondering if he’d accidentally bought non-alcoholic wine. It didn’t seem to be having any affect whatsoever. “I’m not, I’m trying to say…” He blew out a quick breath and laughed nervously. “This was meant to happen later.”

“What was?”

“Maybe we should eat dinner? Talk a little.”

“About…the water thing?”

He looked at her again, at her confused face, and caught a glimpse of something in her eyes. Something infinitely warm, something utterly endearing. It made his heart race faster. “No,” he said at last, “not that.”

Her gaze fixed on his, searching for the truth. Pleading for the truth. “Then…?”

“I wanted to—” His voice cracked, he swallowed, and stumbled on. She deserved the truth, more than anything else she deserved that. “I wanted— Donna, I—” She was staring at him, her expressive eyes wide and uncertain. “I wanted to tell you that— ” Words, the rapier tip of his lightening wit, were failing him utterly. They melted in his mind like snow in the sun. “Donna, I—” He rubbed a hand across his face, set down his wine glass, and laughed awkwardly. “I can’t do this, I’ve never known how to do this without it sounding like a horrible cliché.”

“Do what?” Her voice was quiet, her face serious. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

Just say it. Just say the words! “I like you, Donna.” Like? “I like you a lot, and if you wanted, then maybe we could— Oh God, this is so completely unimpressive. It’s—”

“Josh?” Donna smiled and it looked like the sun rising. Somehow, despite his inarticulate ramblings, she understood him. It was out there now, this unnamed thing between them, it was out there and she held his heart in her hands. “Josh...” His name was soft on her lips, and in the pit of his stomach a banked heat flared, tension reaching a crescendo. But he kept silent, waiting. Waiting for her to cast the deciding vote on his future.

“I’ve seen you harangue armies of volunteers into working all night,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen you sweet-talk the most intransigent old senators, and brow beat the Speaker of the House, until you got what the President needed. I’ve seen you set a room on fire with your enthusiasm and drive, and divert a dozen disasters simply because you’re the best at what you do.”

He was finding it hard to breathe. There was something going on in her eyes, a warmth and depth he’d never let himself notice before. He saw it now though, saw it in her eyes and in her smile, and remembered seeing it a hundred times before. Was it…? Could it possibly be…?

Donna edged closer, her voice dropping to a murmur. “I watched them crack your ribs open, Josh. And I watched you come back from that, stronger than before. I saw you break.” She reached out and her hand came to rest lightly against his chest. “And I saw you haul yourself out of that hole one day at a time.” Through the thin material of his t-shirt he could feel the warmth of her fingers against his skin and the breath hitched in his lungs. “I’ve seen you make grown men cry, and I’ve seen you risk everything for the sake of a friend.” 

His head was spinning, his whole body charged like he was wired into the national grid. “Donna…” It was half a question, half a plea.

She smiled. “Don’t you get it? You don’t need to impress me, Joshua. You did that a long time ago.”

“I— I don’t know what to…” He had nothing to say, no answer for her. His mind was empty of all but three words, and they terrified him more than anything else. He couldn’t say them, not now, it was too soon, it was—

Donna’s face clouded with sudden embarrassment and her fingers dropped from his chest. “You don’t need to say anything, I—” 

“No, wait.” Her slim wrist was in his hand before he knew how it had happened. “Donna?” She looked up, her face a picture of confusion and affection and the words just spilled from his lips. “Thing is, I… I love you. A lot.” She visibly started and he kicked himself. “I know I shouldn’t say it yet, I don’t mean it possessively or—”

“Shhhh…” Her fingers brushed against his lips, silencing him. Cool and smooth, they traced his mouth, then fluttered across his cheek and into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her smiling eyes shone as she gently drew him closer, her breath mingling with his, their noses lightly bumping until she tipped her face to one side and their lips met, so softly. So eagerly. He let his eyes drift shut and she filled him entirely; the scent of her hair, the caress of her fingers, the thrill of her lips moving against his. He was on fire for her. Yet he barely dared move, afraid of shattering this perfect moment. Too soon, she pulled back and he ached with the loss of her touch. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and found her smiling at him, a bright, joyful smile that seemed to radiate straight from her heart. Gently she pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I love you too,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “What else did you think?”

I love you too. Those four words triggered a wave of emotion that engulfed him like floodwater. It wasn’t new, this feeling, it had been there all along, trapped inside the solid edifices of his reserve, fears, and professional etiquette. But those constructs were crumbling now, and his feelings spilled out through every crack, swamping him, overwhelming him. 

Words were impossibly far away, beyond his reach, and so he did the only thing he could. He reached for her, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulled her to him and poured everything he felt into an ardent kiss. She responded like a blossoming flower, tenderness surrendering to desire as years of longing tore down the last of the barriers between them. And it felt so right. So perfect. He didn’t want it to ever end, he wanted to kiss her like this forever. But then Donna’s exploring fingers slipped beneath his shirt and lightly raked across his back. A surprised gasp stole his lips from her mouth, and Donna smiled a triumphant, impish grin… With a growl he pushed her down into the cushions of the sofa, nuzzling and teasing the delicate skin at the base of her throat until she murmured his name with such passion that he knew he was lost forever. Or perhaps he was found...

His last coherent thought before she swept him away entirely was that he should probably call CJ.

 

A noise, familiar and shrill, penetrated the languid darkness. Reaching out a clumsy hand, Josh fumbled for the phone. He barely knew what day of the week it was, so thick was the fog of sleep. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes too heavy to open. He felt like he’d been asleep for five minutes, but couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so…good. The reason for that was curled up against him, and he smiled, despite his weariness, at the feel of her in his arms. The doctors were right; he really should relax more.

“Josh?” The sharp bark on the end of the phone did its best to sour his mood.

“CJ?” She was calling him in the middle of the night, which portended some horrible disaster. “What’s happened?”

There was a slight pause, and then, “This may seem like a personal question… Well, it is a personal question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Are you sleeping with Donna Moss?”

His eyes snapped open. “Do you have…cameras in my apartment?”

“No, but maybe Jack Grady from the New York Sun does.”

“They’re going to run a story? About this? Who cares about this?”

“Obviously the New York Sun. So – I take it it’s true?”

Donna lifted her head from his shoulder and frowned sleepily. “What’s going on?”

He thought she’d never looked more beautiful than right then, with her hair mussed and messy and her eyes heavy with sleep. “It’s nothing, it’s just…” But the untruth died on his lips. He couldn’t lie to her, not after all the lies he’d told himself, and her, over the past four years. “It’s CJ. Apparently the New York Sun has cameras in my bedroom.”

“What?” For a moment he had her, and it made him grin. Then she frowned and swatted him on the chest. “They know about us? How can they know?”

“Oh my God, is she there with you right now?” CJ’s voice had taken on a dangerous tone of exasperation and outrage, the kind of tone that made the press corps run for cover.

But Josh was unmoved. He was a man of courage, especially when it came to defending his woman. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s—”

“I need to know everything. Right now.”

“Everything?” he snorted, wishing he sounded less nervous. “Isn’t this the conversation you should be having with Donna in the girl’s locker room after gym class?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Josh.” CJ paused. “Let me correct that. Don’t be a bigger idiot than you’ve been already. I need to know how long it’s been going on, whether anything even remotely indiscrete has ever happened, God forbid, in the White House, whether—”

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it?” he said. “It’s dark.”

“It’s six thirty.”

“In the morning?”

“No, yesterday evening, Josh!”

Donna was watching him with an expression somewhere between disapproving and amused. He grinned at her. “Six thirty you say? Then, in answer to your questions, it’s been going on for almost twelve hours and no, nothing remotely indiscrete has ever happened in the White House. Unless you include that incident with Donna’s underwear and—”

“Twelve hours?” CJ laughed. “Josh! Seriously?”

“You think you wouldn’t be my first call? You know – if you’d let me wake up first.”

She laughed again, the sound muffled as if she were covering the phone. “She thinks it’s funny,” he told Donna. 

After what seemed like an hour of CJ giggling behind her hand, she returned to the phone. “Okay, I’m sorry. When Jack came in with the heads up I had no idea— I mean, I assumed it had been going on for a while. I didn’t intend to interrupt your first—” She stopped suddenly. “So, how on Earth could he know about this?”

Josh had a fair idea and the thought spiked his buoyant mood. “He got a tip-off.”

“From who? The doorman?”

He laughed bleakly. “The Gardner, more likely.”

“Amy?”

“She’s done worse.”

“Okay.” He could hear the cogs spinning inside her mind. “I’ll handle this. But Josh?”

He knew what was coming next and sighed, his eyes lifting to meet Donna’s. Concern and resignation were reflected there and he reached out to touch her cheek in reassurance. “We can’t keep working together.”

“No, you really can’t.”

“I’ll sort something out and—”

“Wait.” Donna sat up and gestured for the phone. “Let me talk to her.”

A little chary of ceding control of the situation, Josh hesitated. Donna all but snapped her fingers impatiently and he, reluctantly, handed over the phone. 

“CJ? Yeah, hi.” She grinned suddenly and, to Josh’s delight, she blushed to the roots of her extremely sexy hair. “Thanks. Yeah…yeah, me too. Listen, if you get a question in the briefing, you can tell them that I’ve resigned and am working out my notice.”

“What?!” Josh couldn’t help himself, he made a grab for the phone.

Donna fended him off with one hand and carried on talking. “No, I’m sure. I actually got a job offer yesterday…”

“Are you insane? You can’t work for Amy! After what she—”

“Excuse me,” Donna said to CJ, then turned on him. “Josh, be quiet. I’m talking.”

He stared, speechless for about the hundredth time in twelve hours, as she smiled into the telephone, said goodbye, and hung up. “CJ says we should watch the briefing.”

Josh shook his head, his words tripping up on an incredulous laugh that wouldn’t be repressed. “You can’t work for Amy Gardner, Donna. She’d eat you alive.”

“You don’t think I could take Amy?”

His eyebrows rose. “Now that, right there, that’s an image I kinda—”

“Josh, don’t be a putz. I’m not going to work for Amy, but…” She shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t her intention, but she got me thinking. I could do more. I want to do more, and I bet there are other jobs I could get. I have a lot of experience now and—”

“There are a hundred jobs you could get.” He sighed. Truth was, he didn’t want to lose her. The thought of not seeing her face every day…

“You won’t be losing me, Josh.” She’d always been able to read his mind, which, all things considered, probably wasn’t difficult right now. Slipping her arms around him, she held tight. “It’ll just be different.”

“I don’t want things to be different,” he complained, sinking back into the pillows and pulling her down with him. 

Donna smiled archly. “Really? That’s not what you said last night.”

He grinned, he couldn’t stop himself. “Well, if you put it like that…” 

She snuggled into his arms, a perfect fit, body and soul, and he knew she was right. He wasn’t losing her, because up until now she’d never been his. Not really. But from now on, everything was different. She was his, he was hers, and there was nothing that could change that. Not ever.

He smiled as he kissed her, smiled as her silken hair cascaded across his face and her slender body entwined with his. His life was changing for the better, he was certain of that, and for the first time in two decades he found himself contemplating a future beyond politics. It was frightening and exciting all at once, but it was a future he was determined to face with Donna at his side. He couldn’t wait to see how it played out…


	10. What Must Not Be Said

**Epilogue**

_Press Briefing by CJ Cregg  
John S. White Press Briefing Room_

_12:28 P.M. EST_

MS. CREGG: Good afternoon, everyone. It's good to be back from our trip to South America. The President was pleased to participate in the meetings of the Summit of the Americas, and also pleased to meet with President Lula in Brazil and to visit Panama. That was the first time he had been to Panama, and it was a very good visit.

And with that, I will be glad to go to your questions.

Q: CJ, does the President have a view on the relationship between his Deputy Chief of Staff and a junior White House staffer?

MS. CREGG: I’m glad you brought that up, Jack. We were all surprised to discover that, beneath his hard-bitten exterior, Joshua Lyman actually possesses a living, beating heart. Furthermore, he seems to have lost it to a young woman – some might call her brave – on his staff. The staffer in question has resigned her post and is currently working out her notice. 

Q: I want to know what the President thinks about it.

MS. CREGG: The President is thinking about the upcoming G8 summit, not the personal lives of his staff. 

Q: I just wondered whether the White House basically endorses this under the circumstances.

MS. CREGG: Yes, despite all evidence to the contrary, the White House basically endorses the right of its staff to have personal lives. And I for one will be grilling Josh Lyman later, to find out exactly how it’s done. 

Next question!


End file.
